The Mentoring of Hermione Granger
by Over.Thinking.Daily.Life
Summary: "Daphne, do me a favor and go befriend that poor girl," Circe nodded to where the scared, bushy-haired girl sat with her eyes fixed on her plate. "We'll teach her the beauty of the ambitious." A take on the 'Hermione in Slytherin' and 'Hermione rules the world' tropes.
1. First Year

_The small girl on the platform never noticed the cloaked figure, never felt the brief press of the wand against her neck, never heard the whispered incantation. But later, sitting under the ratty hat, she remembered:_

Slytherin, _she thought_. Put me in Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin.

. . . . . . .

"Abbot, Hannah"

"This is pathetic." Circe Greengrass cast a dismissive eye over the trailing first years. After six sorting ceremonies, she considered herself an old hand at their favorite game. "Seven galleons we don't even fill the first-year dorms."

"Boot, Terry"

Circe ran her eyes over the small heads, mentally cataloging each recognizable family. Blond hair and pointed chin? Malfoy. Weedy and dark? Nott. A riot of chestnut curls? Her sister Daphne. No suspense as to where those three would be sorted. She sighed and rested her chin on her hand as the knobbly boy was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Brown, Lavender"

"You know I won't take that, darling," Evelyn Gray glanced down the table to where the five second years were clustered together. "There are few enough of us as is." Even with the handful of Purebloods this year, there would be too many empty beds in the dorms. Why let the five-year trend change? They were a living memory of a war that refused to feel over, especially if you were unlucky enough to be sorted into the house of the snakes.

Privately, in the security of her own brain, Circe wondered if the diminishing numbers wasn't an elaborate plot by the Ministry to starve out Slytherin House. If their numbers dwindled to only a handful, would Hogwarts discontinue the fourth house? The students would be resorted, the textbooks would be re-written, and Slytherin and his legacy would fade into a footnote of history. If they were ever remembered, it would be as the cursed house- the home of the damned and forgotten.

"Granger, Hermione."

At Evelyn's sharp elbow, Circe brought her hands together as a shell-shocked first year took a few stumbling steps towards the table in green. Morganna, what lies had the poor girl been told to make her glance around the table with such apprehension? This was exactly what Dumbledore and the Ministry wanted; terrified little witches and wizards writing home to their parents and begging to resorted. Anywhere but Slytherin.

"Greengrass, Daphne."

Circe clapped enthusiastically as McGonagall whisked the hat off her little sister's head after only a heartbeat of consideration. Naturally, Daphne would come to Slytherin; the Greengrass' appreciated tradition in a way that few other families could match. One of the benefits of being able to trace their ancestors back to the Druids.

"It wanted to sort me into Hufflepuff!" Daphne ran up to her and threw her arms around Circe. She was beaming, almost shivering, with excitement, as if she had dodged the killing curse. "But I wouldn't let it!"

"Good girl," Circe planted a quick kiss on her sister's temple, while frustration curled in her stomach. Where each of the purebloods offered a place in another house? She would speak to Malfoy and Nott this evening. If so – well, she wasn't sure what they could do, but the information should be passed along to those who were interested. "Though we'd love you even in Hufflepuff."

Daphne sneered, "Yellow and black with my complexion? No thank you."

"Very true," Evelyn agreed, playfully tugging on one of Daphne's curls until the girl reached over and gave her a hug as well. By this point, Evelyn cared for Daphne and Astoria as though they were her own sisters and the young girls loved her back just as much. "Plus, snakes take care of their own."

"Speaking of," Circe glanced down the table to the little knot of Slytherins. Ten in total, the largest class in all the years Circe had attended Hogwarts. Most of them were cradle friends and were exchanging relieved, quiet grins. Everyone, that was, except for-

"Daphne, do me a favor and go befriend that poor girl," Circe nodded to where the scared, bushy-haired girl was sitting and staring at her plate- decidedly ignoring all of Mayble Flint's attempts to engage her in conversation, for which Circe didn't blame her in the slightest. Mayble's idea of a riveting conversation was to describe her latest kill from the Dark Hunt.

With nary a word of complaint, Daphne peeled away from her sister and trotted down to the end of the table, where she neatly inserted herself between the girl and Mayble's demonstration of something with a butter knife.

They'd show her the beauty of the ambitious.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

If there was one benefit to the diminished standing of Slytherin, it was that there were enough empty dorms that each student over their fifth year could claim their own private space. Circe, by dint of her prefect status and last name, had claimed a beautiful room tucked right against the lake. Sometimes, when nerves drove sleep from her mind, she would sit and watch the moonlight filter through the still water.

"So, how was your first day?"

"Granger is a Muggleborn!" Daphne confessed.

. . . . . . .

"Stop sniveling."

The bushy-haired first year glanced up- her eyes red and wet and her mouth twisted into a miserable scowl.

"I-I-I-m not." She protested

"You are." Petra Martins pushed herself from the doorway and with a flick of her wand made sure the bathroom was clear. When they proved to be alone, she twisted her wand and the door flew shut and locked. All through the little display of magic, the girl sat on the floor with a mulish expression as though ready to deny her wet cheeks and dripping nose.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I?" The girl demanded, "You won't care. You'll just laugh along with all the others!"

"Yes, probably." Petra rolled her eyes at the girl's shocked expression, "Please, Gardner. You make it too easy."

"It's Granger."

"I really don't care."

"Then why are you here?" The girl demanded- irritation finally eclipsing self-pity.

"The Hat took a rather long time to place you," Petra commented. She raised her wand to her temple in mock contemplation, "Let me guess what it told you. 'Ah, quite a drive to prove yourself. Carve off a place for yourself in the wizarding world. Ambitious goals for a Muggleborn. There's only one place for you- Slytherin!'"

"H-how did you?"

"What?" Petra smirked down at her, "You think you are the only Muggleborn among Snakes?

. . . . . .

"Oh no, this simply won't do." Circe shook her head at the young girl in front of her. Behind her, Evelyn sighed and laid a thin hand against her cheek.

"Darling, who taught you to stand?"

. . . . . .

"Hermione, would you like to come over and look at the winter collection with me?" Daphne put down her latest copy of La Sorcress- arrived just that morning. Her father was childhood friends with the editor of the magical magazine and always sent his daughters a copy at least a week before the official release. This time, he had included a dozen samples of the new scent line from L'Occulte. Father would have been an Excellent Slytherin if he hadn't gone to Beaubatons.

"No." The girl barely glanced up from her heavy textbook. True, Daphne was stung, but she was willing to ignore the rude comment for an impending head cold or something if Hermione hadn't muttered in a voice just audible enough to hear, "I'm reading something important."

"Excuse me?" Daphne sat up straighter as every head in the room turned towards the two of them.

"I said, I'm reading something actually important. Some of us actually do our homework."

"She's finished her homework," Pansy but in, "We all did after dinner." The sniff Hermione gave in response could only be described as dismissive.

"Is this your entire essay?" Tracy slid off her bed and held up a long scroll that was nearly black in cramped writing, "Flitwick only assigned six inches."

"It's the first draft-" Hermione tried to grab the scroll back, but Tracy held it easy out of reach with her superior height.

"The first draft?" Pansy laughed, "Are you planning to submit it to 'Que Sais-Je?'"

"What?" Hermione blinked at them blankly.

"You know- Gray's 'Que Sais-Je'" Seeing Hermione's continuing blank look, "Evelyn Gray? Sixth year? My sister's best friend? Third generation editor of- Oh never mind."

"Why are you writing this much?" Millicent was reading the essay over Tracy's shoulder, "It is, of course, necessary to juxtapose the fourteenth-century clerical definitions-"

Pansy laughed, "Merlin. I feel bad for the professors who have to read that."

"We're first years, Hermione," Daphne said gently, "No one expects anything from us."

"Much easier that way," Millicent agreed, looking very relieved at the prospect.

"But-" Hermione glanced around and then frowned as if a headache was coming on, "I expect things from me-" She reached for the essay and Millicent handed it over peaceably. Daphne glanced over at Pansy and saw her friend's face twisted into an uncomfortable expression.

"Well, that makes sense." Daphne declared grandly into the silence. "I have lots of expectations of myself too! So does Mother. I'll lend you the magazine when I'm done with your essay Hermione." Hermione looked as if she was about to say more, but Pansy was already asking about trying the lavender and sea breeze perfume and Tracy had roped Millicent into a game of chess in the common room. Hermione hunkered down and picked up her quill, but she didn't write for a long while.

. . . . . . . . .

"You're in my seat."

Hermione Granger looked up to see the awful Martin's girl standing over her with arms folded and a terrible scowl. Actually, she wasn't in anyone's seat. Even more actually, there were no assigned seats in the common room, she had asked. As it was, the small table tucked away next to the drafty wall was generally free and certainly not the plush armchair Petra favored. But three months in Slytherin had taught her that it was better not to argue with older students who you couldn't beat in a duel. Even if they were muggle-born.

"Fine." She snapped, beginning to pick up her books.

"Too slow."

A flick of the wand and mutter curse and suddenly Hermione dropped her books as her teeth began to grow past her lips, past her chin, and towards her stomach.

"Oh dear." Circe sauntered up to stare at the rapidly expanding teeth, "Whatever happened?"

"No idea." Petra didn't even bother hiding her wand and to Hermione's fury but not surprise Circe didn't even glance at the older girl.

"Must have been a misfired spell. You must be more careful, Granger. Well, come along, we best get you to the Infirmary."

. . . . . . . . .

"And who was it who hexed you, Ms. Granger." Madame Pompfrey waved her wand and the overly long front teeth began to recede slowly. The little girl glanced over at the Slytherin Prefect who brought her in and then lowered her eyes.

"No one." She murmured.

"Really." Madame Pompfrey had low opinions of Slytherin loyalty, but years of managing the infirmary had taught her that further prying was useless.

"Just a little bit further," Circe glanced critically at the girl's smile, "There. That's how it was."

. . . . . . . .

Alone in the bathroom, Hermione ran her tongue over her front teeth for the fourteenth time that minute and spared a smile for her reflection. For the first time, her grin looked normal- perfect, even teeth that could have belonged in Daphne's magazines. Her parents had been discussing braces this summer, but now. . .

Hermione abruptly frowned. She wasn't going to be grateful to the Awful Martins girl. Or to Greengrass. They certainly couldn't have known- couldn't have intended this to happen.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Why do you always get such stupidly good grades?" Pansy flung the stolen essay back in Hermione's face but paused as though she was expecting an answer.

"Because it's interesting."

"It's not." Pansy shook her head, "If you were just interested in learning all this, you would have been in Ravenclaw. But the hat put you in Slytherin, so why?"

"Well, I need to get into a good university. . . "

"What's a university?"

"Cambridge? Oxford." Pansy's blank look did not waver, "Education after Hogwarts?"

"An apprenticeship program. You think you're going to get into an Apprenticeship program by studying?"

Hermione had learned enough to know that Pansy was itching to tell her something, "How would you do it, Parkinson?"

"I wouldn't. Too much work. Too much bother. Not enough reward. But if I was, I'd talk to Daddy to ask around to make an introduction."

"So grades don't matter?" Pansy shrugged

"Well, you probably need to know your stuff once you get there, but it's who you know who opens the floo, right?"

"I see." Hermione said slowly, and she did. A little.

. . . . . . . . .

"There are no such books in the library, Ms. Granger" Madame Prince looked down her nose sharply. "We are an institute of learning not a finishing school."

Hermione felt her shoulders slump. No books on etiquette, manners, or pureblood customs. How was she supposed to learn how to meet people in Hogwarts?

. . . . . . . .

"Hi. Are you Catta Rowle?" Hermione asked brightly, plunking herself down next to a very surprised fourth-year boy in the library. "My name is Hermione Granger." She held out her hand to shake and his bemusement shifted quickly into a sneer.

"I don't believe we've been introduced." He said, rolling up his half-finished essay.

"Well, that's what I'm doing now," Hermione reinforced her dimming smile. Her teeth were even now at least.

"Mmmm. . . No. You're not." The boy decided and slid out of his chair.

. . . . . . .

"Well, what did you expect?" Pansy sneered as she copied Hermione's notes from Charms. Pansy said lectures put her to sleep so Hermione had quickly found out that her presence would be tolerated for as long as her notes took to be copied. "Why did you even want to meet with him?"

"I overheard that he is pursuing an Apprenticeship in Italy and wanted to learn more about it," Hermione said promptly. "I didn't think he'd mind bragging about it."

"Oh, he doesn't." Daphne piped up from where she was studying the spring season's collection of nail polishes with feverish intensity. "But you hadn't been introduced."

"What does being introduced mean?" Hermione asked, biting down on the frustration. There was no book, no syllabus to study these customs. As soon as she thought she had a handle on one, something else popped up out of the blue. The only way she could learn was by listening to her classmates and keeping her eyes open.

"It means to be introduced," Daphne replied blithely, "I'll arrange it." And, without another word, the girl bounced out of the chair and headed towards a cluster of older boys around the fire.

"Wait-" Hermione turned to Pansy who was glaring at the graph Hermione had copied, "Why doesn't she need to be introduced to them?"

Pansy barely spared her friend a glance, "One, because she's speaking to Patrick, my brother, and they've known each other all their lives. Two, because she's engaged to Palin, my other brother, and thus is basically family. And three, because she wants a new set of nail polish but has spent all her allowance for the quarter year already. I'd recommend the sunrise set."

Pansy concluded, sliding the magazine over to Hermione and tapping a manicured nail on one of the circled products. Hermione blinked.

"You want me to buy her nail polish?" she asked.

"Merlin." Pansy rolled her eyes so hard her whole head moved, "Are muggles really so barbaric as to not give thank you gifts?"

. . . . .

"Reading again, Granger?" A nasal voice snickered. Hermione hunched her shoulders and bent her head to focus more intently on the text in front of her. If she hadn't, she might have seen the spell that grazed the top of her shoulder or heard the muttered incantation.

. . . . .

"I'm sorry Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey sighed lowering her wand, "The hex will fade in a few days, so there's no point in trying to undo it sooner."

"No point?" Hermione cried. She stared at the mediwitch in mute horror. The woman looked perfectly clear and normal now, but as soon as she lowered her eyes to look at her medical chart, the words blurred and faded until she couldn't make them out.

"It will fade in no time," the older witch assured her, "I'll write you a letter for your teachers. In the meantime, just listen to the lectures and do your best to catch up on written assignments afterward."

Hermione clutched trembling hands together, feeling truly alone for the first time in her life.

. . . . . .

"I can tutor you."

"What?" Millicent glared up at the mudblood standing in front of her with a pale, determined face.

"I caught sight of your grade on the last Transfiguration quiz. And your reaction to your letter at breakfast. Plus, I overheard Daphne telling Mayble that your father will cut off your allowance unless you make all A's this term." Hermione took a deep breath, "I can make sure you get E's if you want. You know I know the material."

Millicent narrowed her eyes further. It was true that the Muggleborn got the best grades in the class. It was equally true that Pansy and Daphne were no help in studying.

"What do you want?" She finally asked and Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding. Being unable to bury herself in a book during meals had paid off. A little.

"Information- tutoring in wizarding culture." The girl hurried on as Millicent's eyes became slits in her consideration, "I don't trust the other girls to not make up some nonsense as a joke."

"Fine," Millicent agreed, "But don't tell anyone you're helping me.

. . . .

"Daphne, which of these colors do you like best?"

It was the first day back from Christmas holidays and Hermione had done some shopping with a very bemused and confused mother. Now, she held a bouquet of different nail polishes collected from drugstores across G- in various shades she had seen Daphne wear in the past. The girl preferred pale and pearl tinted shades to Pansy's bolder colors and Tracy's chipped black. Millicent, and up to now Hermione, were the only girls who didn't bother with this ritual.

"Ooh!" Daphne squealed in delight as she happily abandoned her first charms assignment and began rummaging through the collection. "I don't recognize these bottle shapes. Are they American? Or Australian. Or-"

"They're English," Hermione told her and took a breath before adding. "They're Muggle."

It was a gamble. But Hermione had noticed that the wizarding world's selection of products was limited at best. Three or four colors per brand in almost the exact shade year after year. A single beauty aisle in the simplest drug store could beat them for variety.

Daphne immediately dropped the bottles on the bed with a loud gasp. "You made me touch muggle things?" She stared down at her hands as if she were debating washing them.

"They have some good colors." Hermione defended herself, "I'm wearing them, see?" She held out a hand which was the result of a feverish break spent painting and repainting her nails until she was sure the paint wouldn't smudge or streak or come out lumpy.

Aversion warred with curiosity as Daphne glanced critically at her nails. Then the girl sniffed and pulled one of the bottles towards her.

"My family manages land that some Muggles live on," She admitted after a moment, "It's not like this is the first time I've seen Muggle products." With that, she scooped up a pale pink and a glittering pearl nail polish and added.

"You chose the wrong shade. You have warm undertones so you need warmer colors. That pink is too cool."

. . . . .

"Well done, Ms. Granger! Two points to Slytherin!" Professor Flitwick chirped happily as her latest essay floated back to her. Draco snatched it out of the air and groaned.

"Another O. Merlin Granger." He sneered and handed it over to the witch. Hermione snatched it out of his hand and stared at the round letter in the upper corner of the page.

An O? On this? She had expected an A at the very best and had spent all evening fully prepared to accept a T- her first failing grade in her life. She'd finished the essay in twenty minutes at breakfast the day it was due. It was barely the required eight inches, included none of her usual extra research, and didn't even have a bibliography or endnote section for citation. And it received an O?

Hermione was flabbergasted for the rest of the week.

. . . .

"It's the last game of the year. Of course, you are going Granger." Pansy stood over the seated witch with her hands on her hips. Hermione, who had never attended or been invited to attend any other game, felt no need to break her streak.

"You can bring a book," Daphne added, bundled in several jumpers, scarves, mittens and fortified with at least five fashion magazines. Pansy glared at her in turn and then relented.

"Fine, but it has to be quidditch related. And," She pointed a threatening finger at Hermione, "You have to cheer when Slytherin scores."

. . . . .

"What. The. Hell." Tracy snarled. Up and down the Slytherin table faces mirrored the sentiment as the linens shifted from a cool green to a fiery red. "How could we lose?"

"We won the Quidditch cup," Millicent whispered.

"We had the most points." Daphne agreed.

"We had Granger." Draco cried pointing a finger at the girl, "She won us like five points every class."

Hermione frowned at the cheering Gryffindors. "This isn't right. It's blatant favoritism. We followed the rules perfectly."

"What do you expect?" Theo muttered into his goblet, "We're Slytherins."

. . . . .

"Will you be alright this summer?" Millicent asked with a scowl at the inoffensive brickwork through which the Muggle world lay. Hermione sighed and hefted her bag up over her shoulder.

"Yes, Bulstrode."

The girl kept frowning. "They aren't going to snap your wand or lock you in a closet or-"

"They're my parents." Hermione snapped. "Are your parents going to do that?"

Hermione didn't particularly like the blank silence between them so she added, "You can write if you're worried. Otherwise, I'll see you next year."

"Good. Transfiguration is going to get harder."

. . . . .

"How was school, Hermione?" Her mother asked, twisting in her seat to peer at her daughter who, for the first time, hadn't immediately pulled out a book upon getting into the car. The past nine months had left a mark on her daughter that Jean Granger couldn't quite put her finger on.

"It was good," Hermione said. "I made some friends."

Robert caught his wife's eye in the mirror. Friends was an unusual word in their daughter's vocabulary. Maybe this magic thing was the right move after all.

A/N: A series of snippets I've been sitting on and decided to give up on stringing into a full story. If this resonates, let me know and I'll see if it can be expanded.

Edited: 9/19 - for personal amusement.


	2. Summer Letters I

Summer Letters I

Granger,

Have you started the Transfiguration summer work?

Millicent Bulstrode

. . . . .

Granger,

I just asked a simple question. You didn't need to send a copy of your entire summer review syllabus or make up a Transfiguration one for me. Are you sure you shouldn't have been sorted into Ravenclaw?

Millicent Bulstrode

. . . . .

Dear Ms. Hermione J. Granger,

How are you? Is your summer going well? I'm having a wonderful time. Papa took us to France and we went swimming in the Mediterranean. It was lovely. Then we stopped by to see Blaise. He didn't say to tell you, hello, but that's probably because he didn't know I was going to write to you, so don't hold it against him.

Speaking- well, writing- of, Lord Bulstrode was bragging about Millie at the summer solstice. He NEVER brags about Millie- it makes me so upset. But anyways he was saying how she has been quite a student and is Studying like a madwoman every day. Well, this doesn't sound like the Millie I know, so I asked her about it and she said that you gave her a schedule for studying transfiguration and that you had a schedule for reviewing the other subjects as well.

Well, if you are doing favors for other people then I have a small favor to ask of you too!

Could you by any chance look into some more muggle products? The nail polish you gave me stinks terribly but I guess it is interesting. So I was just wondering if there were different kinds of eye makeup, lipstick, face creams, body creams, perfumes, hair oils, kohl brushes, rouges, and soaps.

Do muggles even use those? I know you don't- but then muggles have nail polish and you don't wear nail polish, so I was thinking that muggles might have those as well and that it would be interesting to see what they looked like- if you brought them to Hogwarts with you. And maybe started using them.

Anyways! I'm off to go play with Astoria,

Yours,

Lady Daphne Juno Alethia Evelyn Greengrass

P.S- I suppose I should ask for one of those schedule things too.

. . . . .

Granger,

 **Hello.**

Now Daphne will have to shut up about me 'not extending proper salutations' in a letter I didn't know she was writing.

Also, I am planning to spend this summer forgetting everything I learned this past year, but I'm curious what you think you need to review. Send your study schedule.

Blaise Z.

. . . . .

Granger,

My father's pretty impressed with the syllabus. Well, probably that I'm studying at all. He's promised to import some sweets from Bulgaria- anything you want? Let me know.

Millicent Bulstrode

. . . . .

Granger,

Daphne says that you're making up study schedules for all the Slytherins. Is that true? If so, could you make one for me? My father wants me to get an O in potions and DADA. Also, could you write the schedule on the enclosed parchment? I don't want my father to see any muggle stationary.

Thank you,

Theodore Nott

. . . . .

To: H. Granger

Thanks for the syllabi?

T. Davis

. . . . .

Dear Ms. Granger,

I don't recall requesting a study schedule, but since I am not so barbaric a creature (like a muggle) as to not reply with a Thank You for a gift, consider this such.

Pansy P. Parkinson

P.S. I don't need help in Herbology- it's a stupid subject. So I'm ignoring all those days.

. . . . .

Granger,

Apparently, you didn't know my address so you could not send my schedule along with everyone else's. That's acceptable- Malfoy Manor is well protected from Muggles. You may include Crabbe and Goyle's schedules along with my own in your return letter.

Draco Malfoy, Malfoy Family Heir

. . . . .

Granger,

Your parents are letting you come back to Hogwarts right? If so, you'll want to get your supplies three weeks before the term begins- otherwise, all the good stuff is gone. I reserved a book for you at Flourish and Blotts- just ask at the front counter. So we're even.

Feeling good for school, esp, transfig. McGonagall won't know what hit her.

Millicent

. . . . .

A/N: Since the story seems to have hit a bit of response, this is some of Hermione's correspondence for the summer.

Omake: What has Harry been up to?

"A troll in the dungeon?" Harry turned to Ron and the boy shrugged.

"Maybe it will smack some Slytherins?"

. . . . .

"Oh give me this." Ron stood up in the Gryffindor common room waving the chocolate frog card, "Anyone know who this Nicholas Flamel bloke is?"

. . . . .

"You've got to come with us, Nev." Harry urged in their dorms, "We need to stop Voldemort!"

. . . . .

"Wow Nev-" Ron said in amazement as the Devil's snare gently released them and retreated, "Your herbology really paid off."

. . . . .

"I've got to stay with Ron and get him back to the Infimary," Neville said, standing over Ron's broken form. Harry nodded in agreement.

. . . . .

"Mr. Potter?"

"Professor Quirrel?

The two wizards stared at each other in the potions room- the younger having just entered and the elder having re-entered the room. Quirrel's face twisted into a demonic smile, "Well, this might be the stroke of luck we needed, my Lord. Come with me Potter."


	3. Second Year

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Hermione snapped her head up so fast her neck cracked and saw the familiar scowl of Pansy Parkinson at the door of the carriage. Last year, Hermione had chosen a compartment and watched, with a sinking heart, as student after student glanced inside, saw her, and moved on. In desperation, she had resorted to scouring the train for Neville's toad, rather than sit in an empty compartment by herself.

This year, she had resigned herself to a similar start. Only, instead of making a fool of herself by barging into every carriage and announcing that she was a witch, she would stay in this one and translate the fascinating book Millicent had bought for her as a thank you gift that summer.

"Don't just sit there like a toad," Pansy snapped, "Grab your things- everyone's already in the third carriage."

Hermione hurried to gather her trunk, grateful that she was already changed into her school robes.

. . . . . .

"Bulstrode, I'm ok." Hermione said as the larger girl sent her another searching look in the carriage. "The most dangerous part of my summer was a sunburn from the beach."

"You were around Muggles." Millicent insisted holding out a box of Bulgarian chocolates to her, "All summer. Muggles burn witches."

"Not since the 1600's." Hermione sniffed, accepting one shaped like a dragon. Then added, "I was perfectly fine."

The Slytherin looked unconvinced, but finally settled back against the seat and popped another chocolate sweet into her mouth. "Well, you're safe now at least."

. . . . .

"Quidditch signups are on Friday," Draco announced. The second-year Slytherins glanced up from their semicircle of chairs. Even Hermione, who had dragged a chair from the first year seating and was perched on the periphery.

"Are you going to try out?" Pansy asked with a sharp glance of interest, but the boy only shook his head.

"No," Then reveling in the confused glances sent his way, Draco added, "I'm already on the team."

"How did you manage that?" Theo asked.

"Oh, Father's making a slightly more specific donation to Hogwarts this year. Seven new Nimbus 2001 for the Slytherin team. So anyone who wants to get on the team should just say. I'll be able to give them a good word."

Even Blaise seemed impressed with the generous donation, Hermione noted.

. . . . . .

"Try out! Pans- I demand you try out. You're good. Really, really good." Daphne sat on the edge of the bed and was trying to argue with Pansy who was resolutely brushing her hair. "Remember how you flew off the Normandy coast? That was amazing!"

"It's not ladylike," Pansy sniffed, setting her brush back into her beauty box. "Mother would never approve."

"But Pans!" Daphne cried, "You're mum's not here! Plus, you like it! You're good. You're a better flier than Draco. You should be on the team!" Pansy glanced over and quickly calculated the set of Daphne's jaw, the lack of other interesting drama in their lives, and their history of past squabbles.

"Fine." Pansy relented, "But only if Hermione tries out as well."

"Ok," Hermione agreed and Pansy's look of triumph soured. "But I want one of you to teach me the hair care charms you use."

"Deal!" Daphne leaped in before Pansy could protest or refuse. She turned to her dark haired friend with a gleeful smile, "Looks like you're going to attending Quidditch tryouts after all!"

"Are you guys going?" Tracy came out of the bathroom, toweling off her wet hair, "Mind if I come along too?"

. . . . . .

"Granger! Get outta the sky." Marcus Flint's voice echoed with magical reinforcement, "I wouldn't put you on the team if you were the last Slytherin standing."

Hermione gratefully dismounted and ran over to the bleachers where Daphne and Millicent were sitting under a bright 'Go Pansy!' banner. She accepted a cup of hot cider from her year-mate and sat back to watch the other Slytherin's fly through drills.

"Why'd you even try out?" Millicent asked, "You're terrible. You fell off your broom the first day of class."

Hermione couldn't deny it. Brooms made her queasy and she had dreaded their flying lessons the first year, but she just shrugged. Tracy was wielding the buldger bat like a sword and Pansy was good- flying circles around the other chasers.

"Pansy seemed like she wanted to go," She said, sipping the sweet cider, "Plus, it seemed like it would annoy her."

"It did." Daphne agreed cheerfully. "She's so much fun to annoy. That's why I made this." She waved her hand at the banner which had caused Pansy initially to scowl horribly and threaten some very unladylike behaviors if it wasn't removed immediately. Hermione glanced up and considered some of the charm work they were learning in class. A wave of her wand and the banner now flashed in alternating pinks and purples.

. . . . . .

In the end, Draco became Slytherin's new Seeker, Tracy was made a reserve Beater, and Pansy turned down a Chaser position.

. . . . .

"Hey Granger- Bulstrode said you are doing a transfiguration study group. Are you planning on doing a Potions one?" Theodore Nott blocked her path to the library desk. Hermione hadn't- hadn't even considered her tutoring of Millicent to be a study group.

"Yeah, it's going to start next week. Wednesday evening." She shrugged, "I need some new quills. Those raven ones in Scriviner's Quarterly look nice."

Theo gave a quick, tight nod and spun away.

. . . . .

"Malfoy- I'd like you to join my potions study group." Hermione adjusted her bag over her shoulder carefully so her new quills wouldn't be bent. Draco paused, already dressed in his new Quidditch robes- shock marring his normally fine expression.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy sneered, "Professor Snape is my Godfather. He's been teaching me potions since I could hold a ladle. My grades are-"

Hermione cut the boy off before he realized he was boasting about grades to the girl who regularly received O's in all her classes.

"You're doing fine," She agreed, "But Crabbe and Goyle aren't. And they aren't going to attend a study session unless you attend as well and make it seem like your idea."

Draco allowed that was true, so Hermione pressed on. "I also think we should each partner with one of them during potions. Even with Professor Snape's grading, they barely scraped by with A's last year."

"How'd you-"Draco started to ask, but then hesitated when a new, more important, thought arose, "Why do you care, Granger?"

Hermione bit off her regular rant about the importance of education- since it had never worked on a Slytherin before- and shrugged. "First, I want Slytherin to win the House Cup. The top ten students in each year are awarded ten extra points each semester. It's not much, but it's a start."

"Second," Draco prompted.

"I'd like a new cloak." Hermione admitted, fingering the wool on her very plain, very practical cape she had bought last year. At the time it had seemed a mature, sensible choice, but now it looked shabby compared her dorm-mates.

. . . . .

"Your hair looks different," Crabbe told her during potions.

"Thanks," She sifted the powdered bloodstone into the cauldron until the potion turned a deep burgundy, "It took me two hours."

. . . . .

"Enemies of the Heir, beware?" Hermione read the strange lettering and turned to Millicent for clarification. The girl's round cheeks had paled and she wouldn't meet Hermione's eye. In fact, despite all the whispering between her year mates, no one would look at her.

Hermione turned back to the wall and read the message with renewed concern.

. . . . .

"It can't be real, can it?"

Daphne and Pansy were whispering in Pansy's bed. They'd pulled the curtains, but had forgotten to put up a privacy shield. Millicent was in the common room finishing up a Transfiguration essay that she didn't want Hermione to look over and Tracy disappeared to the owlery without comment after dinner. Retreating to the safety of her dorm and the comfort of her bed, Hermione was desperate for any clue as to her sudden isolation.

"How would I know, Daph?"

Hermione no longer minded evesdropping and she cast a discrete charm to sharpen her hearing. After all, if her dorm mates forgot their privacy charm, she's entitled to hear what she can.

"But the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets is just a myth, right?

There was a moment of silence and Hermione frantically rifled through her memories for any reference to the Heir of Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets in her past reading. It has been a while since she had read Hogwarts a History, but she faintly remembered a reference to the Chamber of Secrets. Something about Slytherin having hidden a monster in the depths of the castle? A revenge plot?

"I thought it was." There is a moment of silence and then, so low that Hermione almost missed it. "I hope so."

"Pans- I don't want these halls to 'be cleansed.'" Daphne suddenly cried, "I have to spend time with all the right purebloods every holiday. It's boring! And what about…" Her voice trailed off in a miserable whisper.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Pansy snapped. "I'm not the Heir!"

"What if we pretend she's pureblood. How would it tell the difference?"

. . . . .

Finding Petra Martins crying in the abandoned bathroom should have felt satisfying. The older girl was hunched over the sink scrubbing at the dark writing on her face, her eyes red and puffy from tears. It should have felt good, but it didn't.

"I recognize the spell," Hermione said softly and flinched as the Martins turned on her wand drawn. Seeing it was Hermione, she relaxed a fraction. "You're going to hurt yourself if you scrub any harder. But I know the counter charm, if you want?"

Petra regarded the younger girl for a second and then nodded, "If you make it worse, I will skin you."

Hermione resisted rolling her eyes, but leaned forward and drew her wand across Petra's cheek, "Erado Dictum." The words faded away, leaving only reddened, too scrubbed skin. Petra glanced in the mirror and then nodded, her face set in a tight line.

"Thanks." She snatched her bag off the counter and was halfway to the door before Hermione could ask-

"What did that mean?"

"What." Petra hesitated, hand on the door frame.

"What was on your cheek. Mudblood."

Petra gave a harsh laugh. "It's what we are, Granger. Dirty blooded witches."

. . . . .

Millicent didn't show up to her transfiguration review- neither did Theodore.

. . . . .

No one showed up to her Potions review. Hermione sat in the library and read the same page for over an hour until she had convinced herself that everything was fine.

. . . . .

When Colin Creevy, an annoying Gryffindor first year, was taken to the Hospital Wing on account of being petrified, Hermione was unconcerned until she picked up whispers that Creevy was a mudblood. Then Hermione's blood, in whatever state of cleanliness, ran cold.

. . . . .

"What do you want?" Hermione cried, trying to pull her arm out of Petra's grasp as she was dragged to the abandoned girl's bathroom. The older girl had a fading bruise on her cheek and a hard set to her jaw Hermione hadn't seen before.

Once they were inside and the door locked, Petra turned on her. "Let me see your shield charm, Granger."

"What? Those are fourth year-"

"This isn't the time to play stupid. What curses do you know?"

"I don't-" Hermione protested and when Petra sent her a glance heavy with disbelief, added, "I've never cast a curse before."

"Bullshit." Petra snapped, "How else would you get the pureblood snakes to leave you alone? Slytherins respond to one thing and one thing only- power. If you hit back hard enough, they'll get the lesson."

Hermione suddenly remembered that all three of the sixth year Slytherin boys had recently been sent to the hospital wing for multiple hexes that ranged from ingenious to insidious.

"There's more than one way to have power." She said slowly, but Petra wasn't listening.

"If you're going to be a bloody pacifist, you're at least going to learn the shield charm. The second years are plotting something. They've been gathering in one of the abandoned classrooms late at night- you need to be ready."

. . . . . .

"Gaunt- Hey Gaunt- would you mind passing the potatoes?"

It took Hermione a good minute to realize that Draco was speaking to her in a voice loud enough to be picked up by a good portion of the hall. Hermione handed the potato's to him with a frown.

"Malfoy- you know it's Gra-"

She broke off with a yelp as Pansy suddenly and viciously ground her heel into Hermione's foot.

"Gaunt. We know."

. . . . .

Gaunt, Hermione later learned, was not an inaccurate insult about her body mass but was instead one of the sacred twentyeight pureblood families and, in fact, the last descendants of Slytherin. Hermione replaced the heavy book of wizarding genology on the shelf in confusion.

. . . . .

"Gaunt, I have a gift for you." Daphne shoves a bottle of newly opened perfume into Hermione's hands. "It's very nice. Father imported it directly from France- a limited edition- you have to have the right connections to even know it was made." Pureblood connections hung unsaid between the two girls.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "What do I owe you-"

"Just wear it. All the time."

. . . . .

"Potter can speak to snakes?" Theo whispered. Tracy, who had paired up with Hermione for the dueling lesson overheard him.

"You don't think…" She said, eyes narrowing as the Professors descended on the child celebrity.

"That he's the Heir of Slytherin?" Blaise asked, arching one eyebrow, "Dumbledore's perfect golden boy? That's a laugh."

"But he can talk to snakes," Theo repeated. "We all know the last person who could do that."

The group was silent, but watched the scarred boy in greater concern.

. . . . .

When Justin Finch-Fletchly, Mugglebor Hufflepuff, was petrified and sent to the Hospital Wing and it turned out Harry Potter had found him, Hermione found herself in the constant company of another Slytherin.

. . . . .

"What are you going to do?" Tracy asked, leaning against the sink while Hermione tried to tease out one particularly difficult clump of hair.

"For what?"

"Christmas break. I've told mum what's going on- she's threatening to not let me come back." Tracy admitted, folding her arms over her stomach.

"Really?" Hermione was astonished, "But aren't you-"

"It's been Muggleborns so far, Gaunt. But what if half-bloods are next?"

. . . . .

"Hermione," Daphne twined her fingers around a green hair ribbon nervously, "Would you like to come and spend Christmas at the Greengrass Gardens?"

Before Hermione could answer, Daphne hurried on. "We think it just might be safer than you going to the Muggle world. And you obviously can't stay here by yourself. And, well, my parents never actually joined- well, the war. They probably wouldn't mind you coming over. Just try not to mention, well, your family." Daphne cast a helpless glance towards Pansy who was pretending not to be listening to their conversation.

. . . . .

Hermione would never forget that Christmas at the Greengrass's.

. . . . .

Penelope Clearwater, half-blood Ravenclaw, was petrified after the holidays and sent the school into an uproar.

. . . . .

"Malfoy, Greengrass?"

The Slytherin table grew silent at an unusual sight: three Ravenclaws had crossed the Great Hall and were standing under the green. Hermione recognized one of them, Mandy Brocklehurst, from her classes.

"Your fathers are on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, right?" The older girl said- her eyes were quite red from tears, "We've collected some information we'd like you to pass onto them."

Draco and Daphne raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other in surprised delight. It wasn't every day humble supplicants came to beg their favor. Draco raised his chin to what he thought was a lordly angle and motioned for them to continue. The boy, Anthony Dodge, stepped forward and set a heavy book on the table.

"This isn't the first time the Chamber of Secrets has been opened," He said flipping to a chapter of the book. "Fifty years ago it was opened and a girl was killed. Hogwarts would have shut down, but the perpetrator was arrested. We looked into the archives of the Daily Prophet and found out who opened it the first time: Rebus Hagrid."

"Hagrid!" Draco cried, "That lumbering oaf?"

"It's what the newspaper said," Brocklehurst snapped. "Why would they lie about it? As soon as he was arrested, the killings stopped."

The Slytherin table sat in stunned silence unable to process the world shattering news. Uncouth, hairy, insensitively pro-Gryffindor Hagrid had the blood of Slytherin running in his veins? This was the Heir who was unleashing a terrible monster on Muggleborn students?

"He does like monsters," Theo muttered.

"But Hagrid?" Millicent asked- "It's just… he wasn't a Slytherin in school!"

"Be that as it may," Hermione found both Daphne and Draco staring at her as though waiting for direction, "It's hard to imagine, but if removing him stopped the killings the first time, it wouldn't hurt to do so again."

Draco nodded, relieved and satisfied. "I can't believe Dumbledore would let a known murderer wander the school grounds! My father will hear of this."

. . . . .

Lord Malfoy did hear of this and soon, unbelievable murderer or not, Rebus Hagrid was removed from the school property. Rumors circled that Dumbledore would soon follow.

. . . . .

It was not enough.

"Ginny Weasley has been taken to the chamber?" Daphne gasped, "But she's pureblood."

"And a blood traitor," Pansy reminded her, but she looked equally disturbed. The girls were in their dorm packing their bags to be sent back home several weeks before the end of term.

"Is this the end of Hogwarts?" Millicent asked quietly. All four girls paused in their packing to consider it.

"We'll write," Daphne decided, "No matter what happens, we won't forget each other."

. . . . .

"What. The. Hell." Tracy snarled, throwing down her bag as the banners fell, red for the second time in the row.

"How did they win 400 points?" Crabbe asked. He had been keeping a careful tally of the various house points and had been the first to notice the astronomical leap of the Gryffindors.

"Potter did rescue Weasley from the Chamber," Hermione sighed. "But I really don't think it's fair for the Professors to award points for non-academic pursuits." Through their studying, six of the top ten second year spots were Slytherins and Hermione had hoped her contribution of sixty points would matter more.

"When has life been fair for us?" Theo muttered. Hermione couldn't help but agree.

"Next year," she promised, "It will be ours next year."

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful response. This second installment was surprisingly easy and very fun to write!


	4. Summer Letters II

Dear Hermione J. Gaunt-Granger

How is your summer going? I do hope you aren't spending the entire time reading and that you are keeping up with your hair care routines!

Papa keeps asking about you- he absolutely Adored your conversation about French literature- he says that there are absolutely no English witches who can pair brains and refinement. You made quite a fan over Christmas.

Anyways, he says that he'd love to have you again- we are going to a wizarding resort in the French Riviera- so you must say that you will come. I am going to invite Pans (obviously) and Millie and Tracy too. It will be a girls retreat to recover from the absolutely horrible past year. Blaise might join us if he's in the area.

Let's settle on a date soon!

-Daphne Greengrass

. . . . .

Hermione,

We're choosing electives this year. I was originally going to do Care of Magical Creatures and Divination- for the easy E, but do you think I could manage Arithmancy? Dad says it's useful for working with goblins.

-Millicent

. . . . .

Hermione Gaunt-

Don't be daft- you're not doing Muggle Studies of all things. First, why. Second, seriously why. Third, my mother knew Charity Burbage at school and let's just say there was a reason she focused on Muggle studies rather than Arithmancy. The class is a joke.

Also, what do you have against divination? It's an easy O.

-Pansy Parkinson

. . . . .

Dear Miss Gaunt,

I don't care if Muggle Studies is an easy O- I don't want to waste my time learning about such things. Plus, Father is quite against it. He says if I don't take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, Hogwarts isn't worth bothering with and I should transfer to Durmstrange. Of course, he's probably right, but just in case- Pansy was saying that you were already taking notes on Ancient Runes?

\- Draco Malfoy

. . . .

Hermione G.,

It was fun hanging out in France. My dad is doing a show near G-. I could get you tickets if you wanted to come see it.

Tracy D.

P.S. Don't tell the other snakes- it's Muggle music.

P.P.S- what electives are you taking?

. . . . .

Miss Gaunt,

If there is anything worse than wasting time in school, it is wasting time with the insufferable idiots from the other houses. What electives are everyone taking? If I must endure more classes, it will it at least be with people I know.

B. Zabini

. . . . . .

Hermione,

What electives should I take this year?

-Vincent

. . . . . .

Hermione! ARE YOU OK? – Daphne

. . . . .

Gaunt- Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. He's a known Muggle killer. Are you safe? Answer soon- Goyle is worried. – Draco

. . . . .

Hermione- Black is a serious problem. He's insane. He killed like 15 muggles in broad daylight and a wizard! Then just kept laughing when the aurorers arrested him. – Pansy

. . . . .

Hermione! Don't leave your house without your wand. My father knows people in the Department of Underage Magic. If you need to protect yourself, you won't get in trouble. – Millicent

. . . . .

Thanks for checking Hermione- I'm good and so's my family. Mum says Black is after Harry Potter- there's something in their past. Stay in touch – Tracy

. . . . .

Hermione!

What an excellent idea to go shopping together in Diagon Alley! It will be fun! We can make a day of it and get icecream and check out the latest fashions at Madame Malkins and, well, I suppose you'll want to go to the book stores. Plus it will be safer if we all travel in a group. Have I mentioned that I'm very tired of being hunted? First the Chamber of Secrets and now Black? I want a normal year!

But no, I haven't heard from Theo this summer. I'll ask Pans and Draco if they have.

See you in a few weeks!

Daphne

Omake: What has Harry been up to?

"Wow mate," Ron said staring at the elaborately carved door, "Pretty lucky that Slytherin's monster is a snake and you can speak to snakes."

"Yeah, I know!" Harry said cheerfully.

. . . . .

"Wow mate," Ron said, staring at Harry's grimy appearance, "Pretty lucky that you managed to fight the snake with the sorting hat over your head so you didn't look into his eyes!"

"Wicked, isn't it?" Harry agreed happily.


	5. Third Year

Year Three

CW: Abuse, character death

"You're being stupid," Pansy laughed, "Owls are trained to follow your magical signature. She's not going to get lost finding Hogwarts of all places!"

Hermione sighed and leaned back in her seat, tearing her eyes from the sky reluctantly. It's not like she'd be able to see Sophia, her new Eagle Owl, but she liked having the bird nearby. She had such wise, deep eyes.

Daphne was busy calculating something on a sheet of paper, tapping her new peacock pen against her cheek as she checked over her answers. "Ok- so it's Pans, Me, Crabbe and Goyle for Divination- I really wish you had at least considered it Hermione."

"It's pointless," Hermione sniffed, "I looked over the course book last year in the Library- complete nonsense. 'Clear your inner eye?' You could just make up whatever you wanted! There's no way to check!"

"Exactly," Pansy said, "Easy O."

"For your lack of faith and respect, I'm predicting terrible futures for you- both of you- for every assignment this year." Daphne leveled her pen at Hermione, then turned to where the other Slytherin was contemplating one of her fashion magazines "Pans! We're like in no classes together!"

"Then petition to join care of magical creatures." Pansy offered, "Everyone but you and Blaise are in it. We'll have a grand time."

"And get my hands dirty?" Daphne shuddered exaggeratingly, "No thank you. Wait- everyone? Did you ask Theo? Maybe he's in divination too!" She half rose to cross into the other compartment where the other half of the Slytherins were sitting. Hermione grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back down.

"Daphne- let him sleep. He doesn't look well." Hermione glanced through the glass to where the dark haired boy was huddled in a corner seat, arms wrapped tight around him. "Do you think he was ill this summer?"

The two pureblood girls exchanged a look over Hermione's shoulder.

"Something like that," Pansy muttered, flipping the page of her magazine stiffly.

"I'm going to check on 'stori," Daphne announced, throwing her parchment and quill on the seat. Astoria was Daphne's younger sister who was starting Hogwarts this year. Daphne had already been to check on her three times in the train ride and the sun had barely begun to set. "I told Draco to look in on her during his yearly strut of the train, but just in case-" She slipped out the door and Pansy rolled her eyes.

. . . . .

It was so cold. So cold.

She wanted to curl into a ball. She wanted to cry. She wanted to just not exist- why was everything so hard? Why did she have to work so hard to be accepted? Why-

A thin scream shattered the air.

Raising her head, a scream died in her throat.

Something was in the hallway. Something dead. Something not of this world. It sucked the warmth from the room- any happiness from her mind. She felt hollowed out- empty- nothing left but weariness, misery- life was never going to improve- she would just keep failing- it would be so easy to just give up.

. . . . .

"RAVENCLAW!" The small girl with honey brown curls bounded over to the table in blue with a delighted smile. One table other, another girl sighed.

"Oh cheer up Daph," Pansy patted her friend's shoulder, "You know how stupidly clever Astoria. She's a perfect fit for the Claws."

"I know." Daphne gulped, her voice teetering on the edge of tears, "It shouldn't bother me this much- but what happened on the train- and everything- and I'm sorry." Daphne broke into quite tears as Pansy pulled her close and looked exhausted. All up and down the table, the other Slytherins were quiet, withdrawn, the food on their plates barely eaten. None of the other houses seemed as badly affected.

When the next student, Fawley, Amber, was sorted into Slytherin, Hermione brought her hands together harder than necessary.

. . . . . .

A scream tore through the air. Hermione's wand was out even before she saw the blood. Her brain took in the other details in short fragments.

Malfoy sprawled on his back- his arm cradled against his chest staining his shirt bright red.

The Hippogriff rearing over him- wicked beak smeared in the same red- a fierce light in the beast's eyes.

Pansy- white-faced and screaming-

Hagrid- too far away to help-

"Protegeo Duram!" Hermione cried. A white shield sprang up over Draco right as the Hippogriff came down- talons scrabbling off the magical shield.

. . . . . .

"Gaunt- I owe you my life," Malfoy told her weakly as he reclined on the pristine, white linens in the Hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had taken one look at the group and had glared at Hagrid. Luckily, she said, Malfoy wouldn't lose his arm, but magical animal attacks were tricky and he'd need to stay under observation to make sure no infection or curse had accompanied the wound.

"Snakes stick together." Hermione bit back a smile, but then frowned, "You shouldn't have teased the creature, Malfoy."

"That great oaf shouldn't have brought such a bloodthirsty creature to our first class!" Malfoy protested, "I didn't think the beast would understand me!"

"Professor Hagrid warned us that they were proud," Hermione said, "He does know his creatures."

"And monsters," Draco muttered, but then changed the subject, "Where did you learn that shielding spell? That's advanced magic."

. . . . . .

"Personally, I think the creature should be killed and Hagrid sacked." Draco declared, leaning back in his chair during potions. He had been released from the Hospital Wing but instructed not to use his arm until Madame Pompfrey had checked it in a week.

Hermione, who had volunteered to help him in potions this week, rolled her eye as she sliced the dandelion root into thin slices.

"Herm?" She glanced up to see Vince gesturing at his cut ingredients with a worried look. Both he and Goyle were looking a little unsure to be working without their usual potion partners. She smiled brightly.

"Those look great, Vince. Wait two minutes and add those to your potion. Malfoy could you please time them? Thank you."

. . . . . .

"He's a menace- ow! Gaunt!" Malfoy yelped as Hermione grabbed his injured arm pointedly and dragged him down the hall away from his audience of first and second year Slytherins. Delicate conversations were best had in private.

"Why are you going on about this, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, "You provoked the creature after Professor Hagrid specifically said not to and your arm healed just fine. Why do you want him fired? Why do you want the creature killed? I have my own issues with the teaching style-"

"He's a murderer, Gaunt." Draco said astonished, "Did you forget what happened last year? Or fifty years ago? A girl died because of him! He shouldn't still be at school- around children. Around more monsters?"

Hermione sighed, "They cleared him of that, Malfoy. The ministry absolved him of all-"

"Don't tell me you believe that?" Draco cried, "Merlin Gaunt- the Ministry is completely in Dumbledore's pocket. All he has to do is whisper in a few ears and things get vanished. The legal process is a complete joke."

"Oh," Hermione said in a more subdued voice, "I hadn't realized-"

"Plus, Dumbledore used Hagrid's arrest last year as a reason to remove my father from the Board of Governors. I can't let that slight stand against our family name."

. . . . . .

"Hell. No."

"Ms. Davis," Professor Lupin looked shocked at the language, "This is a practical exercise in basic Defense Against the Dark Arts- it's not optional."

Tracy crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her head, "You expect me to go up to a magical creature that will transform into my worst fear? In public? You're daft."

"Do you not trust your classmates, Ms. Davis?" the Professor narrowed his eyes as he shot the other Slytherin children a calculating look. Hermione frowned.

"Them? Absolutely. You? No. The Headmaster's spies? Never." Tracy shook her head, "Like hell I'm going to give the Ministry a key to my psyche. Give me detention, take points, but I'm not doing it."

Hermione remembered the reactions of her classmates to the dementors on the train and raised her hand. Who knew what bad memories they had? Who knew what fears lurked in their subconscious?

"Professor, perhaps this isn't the best lesson to do in a group setting without certified medi-wizard." She suggested, "Maybe if Professor Snape?"

"Fine." The man looked suddenly exhausted, "We'll do this in trusted pairs with Professor Snape present. Good?"

. . . . .

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the cabinet and saw her. His face twisted into an ugly sneer, "Filthy little Mudblood. You know we only keep you around out of pity, you pathetic-"

"Ridikulous."

Draco took a step forward, tripped over his robes and fell hard on his chin. He shattered into a sparkle of lights which Professor Lupin quickly banished into the cabinet. Hermione took a steadying breath before turning to face her partner.

"I apologize, Mal-" The apology faded on her lips when she saw the boy's stricken face. It had been painfully intimate to witness the boggart turning into Lucius Malfoy who claimed Draco was the greatest disappointment to the Malfoy line, but it was different to see yourself appear as someone's fear.

"Gaunt- I would never-"

Hermione held up a hand with a brittle smile, "Let's just forget, ok?"

"Ok," Draco jerked his head and walked stiffly through the door. Once they were out of the sight of the professors, he grabbed her hand. "I would never say that. You know that right? No one thinks of you that way."

. . . . .

"Do you really think the Ministry is collecting our fears to use against us?" Hermione asked Tracy as they were brushing their teeth that evening.

Tracy spat out a wad of tooth pasted and considered the sink for a moment, "Let's just say that my Mum has told me some things about the Ministry of Magic that aren't so pleasant. I wouldn't put it past them."

"I see," Hermione said, rinsing her toothbrush. She wished, just a little, for the first year- when her only concerns were the other Slytherins.

. . . . .

"Gaunt, do you have a second?" Blaise found her in the library looking for a particular dictionary of runes. He seemed skittish, eyes darting around to make sure they weren't overheard.

"Yes, what's wrong?" Hermione motioned him closer and then threw up a quick privacy spell. After her success with shielding spells last year, she had been practicing other forms of shielding. Privacy was a pretty useful one. The boy relaxed slightly, but wouldn't meet her eyes.

"While we all promised not to share our partners Boggart experiences, I feel the need to break that promise, considering," He confessed, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Considering?" Hermione asked, feeling a thrill of concern run down her back. Zabini had been partnered with Theo. After the lesson, the boy had disappeared into his dorm and not come out for dinner. Crabbe had smuggled him some food, but-

"It's Nott. The Bogart turned into his father – or grandfather-" Blaise explained in a rush. "I have never seen such hatred on a man's face. The things he said- it's not worth repeating. No one should hear that. But Nott just stood there- petrified. Finally, Professor Lupin had to step in and banish it."

The mystery of her housemate slowly pieced together- the silence over the past summer, passing out with a scream on the train, the dementor. Hermione gasped, "You don't think his father-"

"Who knows? He is a Death Eater." Blaise shrugged, then seeing Hermione's incomprehension his expression morphed into intense concern, "You don't- Oh Merlin,"

"What's a Death Eater?" Hermione asked. The name sounded familiar. Hadn't the Muggle Murderer, Black, been called that?

Blaise ran a shaking hand over his mouth as he looked away from her. Finally, he dropped his hand and turned away.

"Gaunt, you might want to read some recent history. Especially about our housemates."

. . . . . .

"You didn't know?" Petra scoffed- sending off a vicious green curse which left a black mark on the straw manikin. The seventh year girl always reserved a dueling room on the fourth floor on Thursday evenings as a way to relieve stress and keep her reflexes sharp. Petra dropped her wand and glanced at the white-faced third year.

"You really didn't know," She said softly, "Merlin- what a way to find out."

"They've been so nice-" Hermione whispered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her. The cloak that was a gift from Malfoy for last year's study group. Malfoy the son of a Death Eater. A Death Eater who thought she should have died before ever learning magic.

"Or so you thought." Petra said grimly, "Sure you don't want to learn some curses now?"

Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Not until…"

. . . . .

"Hermione! Cheer up!" Daphne undid Hermione's protective ward with a flick of her wand and bounced on her bed, "It's a Hogsmeade weekend! It's time for shopping-shopping-shopping!"

"Daphe- it's-" Hermione cast a quick tempas charm and groaned, "Six am. We aren't going to the village until ten!"

"I know!" Daphne gasped pulling Hermione into a sitting position, "We have, like, no time to get ready. Pansy's already in the shower."

How, Hermione wondered sleepily, was someone so cheerful and upbeat off spring from a family that apparently had tacitly supported a Dark Lord not a full generation ago?

. . . . .

"Well, what are you going to do about him?" Blaise asked her as they walked down the long path to Hogsmeade. It was a beautiful, crisp autumn morning. The last thing Hermione wanted was to think about Dark Lords, Death Eaters, or problems too big for her to fully understand.

"With who?" She said, playing dumb and trying to stride ahead of Blaise and lose him behind a cluster of Hufflepuffs. It was a hopeless task. Blaise seemed to be growing taller every week.

"Theo," He hissed, nodding to where the dark haired boy was walking behind Draco. His head was down and his shoulders were slumped- a sharp contrast to the bustling joy of the other students. "What are you going-"

"Why do I have to do anything?" Hermione asked.

"Gaunt!" Blaise cried and Hermione whirled on him suddenly furious.

"It's Granger," She snapped, "Not Gaunt. Not a pureblood. Just a dirty, common, Mudblood name- Granger."

Blaise seemed taken aback by her sudden onslaught and Hermione took full advantage of the shocked silence. "So why should I- a Muggleborn- help someone who fought a war to see me dead?"

The boy surveyed her for a brief moment, his lips twisted into a thin, white line of anger.

"Theo didn't." He said, "Whatever his father might have done, Theo hasn't."

He spun away from her and Hermione was left with the sick, heavy residue of a shameful anger.

. . . . .

They returned to the castle to find that Sirius Black had snuck into Hogwarts and attacked a portrait. As a precaution, they were to sleep in the Great Hall under the protective eye of the Professors, much to Hermione's dismay.

The houses and years naturally sorted themselves out and Hermione found herself unrolling her sleeping bag with Millicent on one side and Theodore on the other. Blaise had refused to look at her after their fight and she curled under the heavy blanket feeling very small indeed.

. . . . .

A scream jolted Hermione from her uneasy sleep. Wand in hand, she rose to see Theo thrashing under his blanket- hair plastered to his neck.

"Theo-" She whispered, shaking his shoulder, "Theo- it's a dream- wake up-"

"Is everything alright?" Hermione looked up to see Professor Lupin staring down at them, his scarred face thrown into relief from the glow of his wand. For a moment, all Hermione wants to do is to tell this Professor- who has proven himself to be at least competent and an adult- what is going on: her worries about Theo, the dementor attack, how Theo hasn't been eating or engaging in conversation. Let someone older, more knowledgeable handle this. But the words die on her tongue as she stares at the older man.

"I had a nightmare," She lied, "About Black." Theo is awake now, shaking slightly under her hand. His eyes glassy but wary as they flicked between her and Lupin.

Something shut down in the professor's face at her lie. Hermione can't tell if he believed her, but he simply nodded and assured her that she was safe now. Then, he turned on his heel and headed towards to front door.

"You didn't. . . ," Theo started but trailed off. Hermione sighed.

"Snakes take care of their own," She said and the truth of the statement settled heavily on her shoulders. Theo shouldn't be her problem, and yet now he was. "How often do you have these nightmares?"

There is a telling silence and then the boy whispered, "Usually, I can charm my bed with a privacy and silence ward." Which is both not an answer and too much of a confession.

"I'm going to cast 'Silenceo' on you," She told him, "It doesn't work if you cast it on yourself and fall asleep, but it will if I do it. Ok?"

Theo gave her a quick nod, lips tight, and then rolled over to huddle deeper under his covers. Hermione cast the charm so quietly it was almost silent herself. As she laid down to keep watch for the rest of the night, she caught sight of Blaise's glare from across the aisle in the moonlight. Hermione sighed again. Snakes take care of their own.

. . . . .

"What are we going to do about him?" Hermione asked Draco as they took their seats in the History of Magic class. All the Slytherins sat in the back most rows, leaving the Hufflepuffs to fill up the front. An unnecessary precaution considering Professor Binns barely reacted to direct questions, much less quite conversations, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

"Who? Nott?" Draco gave the boy a concerned look, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes!" Hermione hissed. Ever since that night in the Great Hall, it had become impossible not to notice the slow deterioration of her classmate. Theo had always been on the quieter side, but even last year he had been focused in their study groups and ready to debate her on small technicalities of charm work during class. Now, he barely seemed to register anything.

Draco began picking at a hang nail- one of his tells when something was bothering him, "Talk after class." He murmured and Hermione nodded.

. . . . . .

"What's this about Nott, Gaunt?" Draco asked when they had met up in one of the secluded alcoves in the dungeons. Hermione was glad that he had left Vince and Greg to finish their homework before dinner. The boys had their hearts in the right place, usually, but weren't terribly discrete. She cast a quick privacy and disillusionment ward over the doorway so anyone walking past the small room would think it was empty, but that they had something more pressing to do right then. Draco raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

"I think Nott's father is abusive." Hermione said shortly and outlined in brief her observations and conversations with Blaise. Draco looked shocked, then angry, then confused in turn until she finally ended and he slumped against the wall.

"Why are you telling me all this?" He asked, "What do you expect us to do?"

"Snakes take care of their own." She repeated. It was becoming her own personal mantra this year apparently. "Plus, I was hoping you'd have some insight considering the connection between your families."

Draco glanced up, confused, then realization dawned before being shut abruptly behind a suspiciously blank look. "Look, Gaunt, not all purebloods actually know-"

"I know your father's were both Death Eaters," Hermione said, falling back against the wall next to him. She glared at the torch across from them, "They know each other."

This time, Draco couldn't mask the flicker of emotions that scattered across his face: fear, worry, anger, concern. As he opened his mouth to either defend or deny, Hermione cut him off.

"I've read the recent history books about the Rise and Fall of the dark lord," She said, "I even went back and read the Daily Prophet archives. I don't care if your father was imperioused or not. I don't even care that Nott's father slipped through on a legalistic loop hole- I want to protect Theo."

For a moment, Draco was silent and tense, poised as if he were about to dash from the alcove and flee to a safer place. But eventually, he let out his breath and slumped against the wall again.

"My father would never let me go to Nott Keep," He admitted. "Or be alone with Lord Nott at a party. I hadn't thought he would-" Draco cut off with a sigh and turned to hopefully.

"We could tell my father-"

Hermione who had already been down this line of thought, "And what would he do?"

"Why he'd-" Draco hesitated and then continued in a quieter voice, "He'd probably talk to Lord Nott."

"And what would Lord Nott do?"

"I get it." Draco snapped, "We can't talk to my father- what about Professor Snape?"

Hermione shook her head. "My first year right at the beginning, I spoke to Professor Snape about the bullying from the other Slytherins. No- don't protest Draco. It happened- But do you know what Professor Snape said? 'Work it out yourself.' And don't say the ministry- I know it's corrupt."

"And Dumbledore wouldn't care about a snake." Draco sneered, "Why us, Gaunt? We're too young for this."

"Harry Potter is the same age as us," Hermione reminded him, "Look how much he has done! And, honestly, we're beating him in every class- except DADA. So, I'm asking again- what can we do?"

Draco let out a long breath, "I'm not sure. But I'd feel better if Pansy and Daphne knew about this."

. . . . . .

"Well, he can't go home for Christmas." Daphne declared. "So he's going to have to stay with one of us." Both girls had accepted the story without so much as a blink of protest or confusion which did not sit well with Hermione. How many other students had home lives that were whispered about but never discussed? How many others feared their holiday breaks?

"I can't," Both Pansy and Draco said simultaneous. They shared a glance and Pansy shrugged first.

"The Notts know our floo address- if Lord Nott wanted to take Theo back, my father wouldn't stop him." The girl explained. Draco nodded in agreement.

"And Nott Keep shares a border with our main estate," Daphne sighed, "I could probably bother my father into taking us abroad for the holidays- but Theo would need his father's permission to floo internationally. Which means the Zabini's are also a poor option."

The fourth Slytherins considered the problem between themselves.

"He could stay with my family," Hermione suggested after the silence stretched. And then, when three sets of horrified gazes turned her way, she snapped, "Will you get it through your thick skulls that Muggles are not barbarians? We're hardly going to lock him in a dungeon!"

"Yes, but at least in a dungeon you can do magic!"

Hermione barely refrained from hexing the boy.

. . . . . .

"Nott?" Hermione sat down next to the boy on the final day before Christmas break, "Would you like to spend Christmas with my family?"

Hope bloomed in the boy's eyes and then died abruptly.

"I can't," He apologized, "My father would never let me-"

"But we've got it all figured out!" Daphne broke in, clapping her hands. "First, we'll say that you're going to come to spend a few days with me. Then we'll tell my dad that we are actually going over to the Parkinson's for a day or two. So when you get off the train, you go with Hermione and no one will be the wiser!"

Theo was quite for a moment, then, "He wouldn't think to look for me among Muggles. I'd like-"

"We'll take care of everything," Pansy interrupted, rising with a determined look in her eye, "Come on, Daph."

The two girls ran off to the owlery and Hermione gave Draco a small thumbs up. He gave her a shaky nod of his head in return.

"Whatever you're thinking," She told Theo who was looking paler than normal, "It's not that bad."

. . . . .

It was another Christmas Hermione would never forget.

. . . . .

"There you are!" Draco cried, "Look who has some color in his cheeks!" He threw his arms around Theo and the boy managed a small smile in response. Hermione, who was stamping snow off her boots caught Daphne's and Pansy's curious looks and gave them a quick wave. They were soon joined by Tracy and Millicent whose cheeks were red from an impromptu snowball fight with the Ravenclaws.

Hermione allowed herself to relax. It was good to be back.

. . . . .

"Malfoy, we need a more permanent solution," She whispered during Potion class. Malfoy checked to make sure Snape was busy with Longbottom and then twisted in his chair to face her.

"What are you thinking?"

"Dueling lessons." Hermione said firmly as Draco's eyebrows rose. "If Theo can defend himself, his father might think twice about – well, we could all use some more practice. What with the Chamber of Secrets last year and convicts breaking into the castle this year? I'd feel better if we all knew how to defend ourselves."

"Good," Draco agreed, "I'm in. Set the time and place."

. . . . . .

"You want me to what?" Petra snapped, glancing up from her book in the library, "You think I'm going to teach a bunch of self entitled pureblood heirs how to be even nastier? Forget it."

Hermione was prepared for this, "You'll be able to hex them with no consequences."

Petra turned back to her with a considering glint in her eye.

. . . . . .

"Good job Theo!" Hermione cheered as the boy set a severing curse towards the manikin that left it without an arm. The grin he gave her was the brightest she'd ever seen him. Under Martins' unconventional teaching, his wand skills were growing every week.

Draco sent a jet of flame towards his target and turned towards Hermione brandishing his wand proudly, "What did you think of that Gaunt? I call it Dragon's Breath."

"It would help if you aimed it a bit better," Hermione said absently, watching as hex after hex bounced off of Millicent's shield. It hadn't taken much urging to convince her fellow snakes to give up their Thursday evenings for wand practice.

A sharp sting struck Hermione's arm and she whirled to see Pansy grinning at her, "No dozing off, Gaunt."

Hermione responded with a laugh and clever hair changing jinx she'd read about earlier that week.

. . . . . .

"I have an idea," Draco grinned as he leaned forward during a lull in their year study group. Even though their classes are beginning to diverge, the third year slytherins still enjoy finishing their homework together.

"What if we dress up as dementors and go terrify Potter during the quidditch game tomorrow?" He grinned proudly and Greg nods in agreement. "What do you think Gaunt? Pretty funny to see Potter freak out again right?"

Hermione didn't bother suppressing her eye roll. "Hilarious Malfoy- I'm sure."

"Well, what would you do then?" Draco slumped back in his chair, lip jutting in a childish pout. Hermione didn't pause in answering her arithmancy questions.

"I'd go after that broom you keep complaining about." She said, flipping to an index.

. . . . . .

"Well, I didn't know the acceleration curse would be that strong!" Draco protested under Hermione's glare. "And how was I supposed to know he'd leave the pitch and run straight to the dementors?"

"You're getting a lot stronger Draco. Your spells are going to be stronger too." She snapped. He opened his mouth to respond, but Theo interrupted.

"What was that white spell he used against the dementors?"

. . . . . .

"Again?" Daphne cried as they were herded to their dormitory under the watchful eyes of the prefects, "I thought the dementors were supposed to keep Black out!"

"Apparently, he destroyed Harry Potter's bed searching for him," Millicent said gleefully. "The whole room was torn apart! He was screaming something about Death to Enemies of the Dark Lord!"

. . . . . .

"Patroneous," Hermione confirmed a few days later during breakfast. She had spent three days in the library researching Theo's question. After all, if there was a spell that would protect them from the Dementors, she wanted to know why everyone wasn't learning it. "It's apparently a very advanced bit of a magic. It manifests a good memory into a protective animal. How did Potter ever learn this?"

"I wonder what mine would be," Daphne said dreamily, "Maybe a swan. Something elegant and pure-"

"You mean loud, vicious, and awkward on land?" Pansy laughed, "Fits you perfectly Daph!"

"Mine would be a Dragon," Draco boasted, showing off his seeker skills by snagging a care package out of the air before it could fall in Greg's porridge. "What about you Gaunt?"

"Theo, you ok?" Hermione didn't even hear the question, her focus on the sudden paling of her friend's face. Theo was staring down at the letter he just received and didn't respond until she elbowed him gently.

"I- uh-" He glanced up and blinked, "My father is calling me home for Easter Break."

The good mood at the table immediately vanished. Daphne and Pansy exchanged a look-

"Ok- that's fine. I can speak to my father and we can arranged something-" Daphne began, but cut off when Theo shook his head decisively. He dove for his bag and pulled out a quill and pot of ink.

"No, thank you, but no." He turned the fine parchment over and scrawled a response on the back, "He thinks he can summon me back like a dog? I'll show him- treat me like a house elf?" Theo shoved his response at the owl who took off with an eerie screech. The boy collapsed back, breathing hard with two bright spots of fever high on his cheeks.

"Nott?" Greg asked cautiously, "Everything ok?"

"Great- just great." Suddenly unable to sit still, Theo pushed himself away from the table and grabbed his bag, "Anyone want to duel? Davis?"

Tracy threw her napkin down with a grin, "Any excuse to skip History! You're on Nott."

"Try not to get caught," Hermione called to their retreating backs, "We're in the lead of the house cup-"

"Only you Gaunt," Blaise shook his head as he stared at her. Hermione gave a huff of exasperation.

. . . . .

They gathered in the North Atrium of Nott Keep- called via floo from their tense and impromptu Easter holiday at Greengrass Gardens by a too calm Theo.

Seven of the Slytherins looked at Draco.

Draco looked at Hermione.

Hermione looked at the body sprawled at the bottom of the stairs- neck at an angle she had never seen outside of movies. The deep gash through his chest had clotted, leaving the pool of blood dark and sticky.

"I didn't me-" Theo started, but clamped his mouth shut when she slashed her hand towards him.

"Gaunt?" Draco asked hesitantly, but she shook her head.

"Black." The other snakes stared at her as she turned to Theo, her hands clenched tightly so they wouldn't shake. "The mad, mass murderer came here, killed your father- didn't know you were home. He escaped when you tried to apprehend him."

For a moment, they were silent as they digested the lie.

"Millie did say Black was ranting about Death to the Dark Lords enemies," Daphne said slowly.

Pansy cast a considering eye over the heavy stone walls of the Keep, "He got past dementors, the Hogwarts wards- it's not unbelievable he'd get in here."

"Sirius Black killed Lord Nott?" Greg asked curiously glancing between Hermione and the body. Hermione hesitated, looked at Draco and then at Theo. The boy was shivering, the two high spots of fever in his cheeks again. But he raised his chin under her questioning look and nodded.

"Yes. That's what happened."

. . . . . .

Draco's father's connections kept Theo's face out of the Daily Prophet, but that was all he could do. For the next week, headlines like BLACK DEFENSES ALL FOR NOTT? And DEATH TO YOU-KNOW-WHO'S YOU-KNOW-WHAT ad CLEARED, BUT NOTT FORGOTTEN were blazoned across the newspaper as various experts gave opinions on everything from how Black managed to evade capture, to how you could Black proof your home, to future targets of 'The Black Crusade.'

. . . . . .

"I'm sorry."

Hermione was surprised to see Harry Potter standing in front of their table in the library. The young celebrity managed to keep his interactions with the Slytherins mostly confined to his somewhat rivalry with Draco and rarely, if ever, has approached anyone else.

Theo, who has been approached by well-wishers for most of the week, gave a quick nod and turned back to his essay. Either ignoring or not recognizing the dismissal, Potter continued to stand there, hands in his pockets, until Theo lifts his head again.

"Yes?"

"He killed my family too you know. Black. Well, betrayed them." Potter admits, "So I know how you feel."

"Ah." Theo glanced at Hermione who shrugged slightly. "Ok, then?"

Harry nodded, as if he was expecting such an answer.

. . . . . .

Hermione sat next to Theo as they cheered in the stands when Slytherin won its final match against Ravenclaw. The color was back in the boy's cheeks and he watched the game avidly.

. . . . . .

"Did you see Gaunt?" Draco asked at the party that evening, "Did you see how I cut off Chang for the Snitch?"

"Yes, Malfoy," Hermione said patiently as she heard the repetition of the story for the fourth time that evening, "Very good flying."

"Almost wish we'd played against Gryffindor," Draco bragged, "I would have loved to see Potter's face as I snatched the snitch right from under his nose!"

"Especially since he doesn't have his fancy broom," Theo agreed with a grin as he relaxed in the seat, "Never a good idea to accept presents from unknown admirers- who knows what jinxes they might have."

The third years burst into laugher and Hermione grinned in real delight and relief. They were safe. They were victorious. Snakes stuck together.

. . . . . .

"I give up." Tracy flung her hands in the air as, once again, the House banners changed from green to red. "I'm done. There is literally no reason to get House Points."

"Not while Potter's in our year," Theo agreed. "I wonder what stunt he'll pull next year to win?"

. . . . . . .

On the train back to Kings Cross, Potter once more crossed their paths by storming into the Slytherin carriage backed by a grim faced Weasley and less grim Longbottom.

"Black did not kill your father," He accused, hand almost on his wand.

"Excuse me?" Pansy asked, disbelief coloring her voice. "Who asked you?"

"It was a set up," Potter continued, "You're framing him for something he did not- would never do."

"And how would you know, Potter?" Draco drawled, his voice calm but his shoulders tight. "Have you met Black?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, glaring at each of them in turn. Each of the Slytherins, Hermione included, had their hand on their wands and she knew, from their dueling practice- how experienced they were.

Potter apparently noticed this too. "I will find out what is going on," He promised, turning away from the compartment, "And I will make it right."

. . . . .

"Are you sure you want to go there, Theo?" Daphne asked, giving the boy a hug on the platform, "You know my family would love to have you. Any of ours."

Theo returned her hug awkwardly, but nodded. "I'm sure. I just- I don't want anyone to look- or question- or remind me of-" He trailed off in a mumble and Daphne gave him an extra hard squeeze.

"If you change your mind or if it becomes too bad," She said, "Just owl us."

"One day I will have every single one of you over," Hermione promised, "And you will take back everything you've said about Muggles. Come on Theo- I promised Mum we'd meet them at 5."

A/N: Sometime in the future, this chapter will be re-written since I am not pleased with the flow of events. But better posted imperfectly, then lose momentum by trying to fix it.

As for Harry rescuing Black? Don't tell me Dumbledore doesn't have a spare time turner in his office!

Thank you, everyone, for your reviews, follows and favs. The response to this story makes me so happy!


	6. Summer Letters III

Summer Letters

Dear Mum (and Dad),

I hope you are both doing well? The end of the year exams will be challenging, but my friends and I are studying well and I feel confident we will all do well.

There has been a small tragedy in our circle, however. Theo's father has passed away- due to an unexpected heart attack. He doesn't have any relatives in the country and the magical world lacks any form of child protective services- he'd be expected to live on his own in the house his father died in!

Could he stay with us a few weeks at the beginning of the summer? I think he would feel much better in a familiar space- and he enjoyed his time with us this Christmas.

Love you both,

Hermione

. . . . . . .

Dear Mum,

Yes, I completely agree about the lack of proper supervision in the wizarding world- but it's a little more difficult than just writing to the government. The whole system is corrupt!

Thank you for letting Theo spend the summer with us. I told him and his whole face just lit up. As a heads up, he's going to want to pay for his lodging- please don't let him.

The final exams were surprisingly easy! I think even Greg and Vince were able to pass all their classes!

Love you,

Hermione

. . . . .

Malfoy,

My parents are actually delighted to have Theo over. He's an excellent guest- very quiet and helpful- which they've mentioned several times already. He is actually having no trouble adapting to not using magic for a few weeks.

H.G.

. . . . . .

Pansy,

Theo showed me the letter you sent him. You know you can ask me those questions about the Muggle world too, right?

For instance, we do not live in a hovel and I'm not 'compromising my innocence' by sharing a room with him! Honestly- he has the guest room down the hall. And does't need food packages sent!

Once again, you and Daphne are more than welcome to come over for a weekend and see the place for yourself. We'll go on a tour of London.

Have you started your summer homework?

Hermione

. . . . . . .

Malfoy,

I don't know why you are in such a snit about not having an invitation to visit Theo extended to you as well. Anytime I mention the Muggle world you start scoffing and imaging the absolute worst scenario. I was simply sparing you the strain of thinking about a world so different from your own.

However, at your insistence, please consider this a formal invitation for Heir Draco Malfoy to visit Chez Granger.

H.G

P.S. Have you bought Greg that book on crup husbandry- I think we should encourage any academic interests he has!

. . . . . .

Tracy,

You may absolutely come over next week! Mum says that we can set up a mattress in my room and you can stay until your parents are back from their tour.

Theo is very excited to see more people too!

Hermione

. . . . . .

Malfoy,

No, I am not warding our house as unplottable- my parents need to find it when they come home from work.

There are also no areas to apperate- which shouldn't matter because we can't even apperate yet!

I will however discuss connecting our fireplace to the floo network- thank you for sending the appropriate literature.

H.G

P.S. I'm glad that Greg is enjoying his book! Do you think Vince would enjoy one on magical stone working? I was looking over my transfiguration notes and remembered that he had been particularly adept at our granite to marble exercise in February.

. . . . .

Dear Daphne,

Thank you so much for the invitation to attend the World Quidditch Cup! Theo and I would love to take you up on the invitation. Is Tracy invited as well?

If so, the three of us can meet you in Diagon Alley at 1pm for lunch, then floo to the Gardens.

Hermione

P.S- Are new robes really essential for watching a Quidditch game?

. . . . . .

Malfoy,

Thank you very much for the invitation to watch the Quidditch match from the Malfoy box. However, we've already accepted Daphne's invitation so Theo, Tracy and I will be sitting with her. Maybe we can all meet up before or afterwards?

H.G.

. . . . .

Dear Pansy,

I hardly realized that there would be so many wizards of different nationalities attending! This is so exciting! Do you think anyone from the Milan Universita will be in attendance? I've heard that they are expanding their Art of Magic apprenticeship program soon!

What are you going to be wearing? Will you be sitting with us?

Hermione

. . . . . .

Malfoy,

I don't know what to tell you. If you wanted company, you should have asked sooner than a week before the event. I've asked Daphne, and she said it's perfectly fine if you'd like to come sit with everyone.

H.G.

. . . . . .

Dear Millie,

I would be delighted to meet the Minister of Bulgaria and the Bulgarian quidditch team with you and your father at the World Cup.

This is all very exciting!

Hermione

. . . . . .

Malfoy,

No, I don't know 'how it would look' if you came and sat with your friends in the Greengrass box- other than you'd be having a great time with everyone.

And I'm sure I'll get the chance to meet your parents either before or after the game.

H.G.

. . . . . .

Daphne-

Confirming our plans for tomorrow. Theo, Tracy and I will be meeting you at Madame Malkins at 1 pm.

Hermione

. . . . . .

Parkinson,

THEY WERE MUGGLES! They had no way to defend themselves against the attack! How is this at all acceptable? Why are you defending the attackers?

\- Granger

. . . . .

Bulstrode,

It doesn't matter that they weren't related to me! They were muggles- helpless, unmagical muggles! They shouldn't have been attacked or traumatized in that way to begin with! I cannot believe you are defending these people!

\- Granger

. . . . . . .

Tracy,

What is going on with our classmates? How is what happened at the quidditch match logical or sensible or – anything really? Theo won't talk about it. Would you come over and talk to him? He's become so withdrawn, I'm worried.

Hermione

. . . . . .

Greg,

I'm not speaking to Malfoy right now because he laughed at what happened that evening at the Quidditch match. I'm not speaking to him again until he apologizes.

But I'm not mad at you or Vince.

Hermione

. . . . . .

Dear Mr. Krum,

It was very nice to meet you at the World Cup. I'm sure you're sick of hearing congratulations about catching the snitch, but let me add my own. I don't know too much about Quidditch, but your flying was lovely to watch.

Thank you for following up on our conversation and sending me the book on traditional Bulgarian spells. It's fascinating to look at how spells differ from the traditional latin-based ones we learn in Hogwarts. Though my translation of Bulgarian is a little shaky. Do you have a favorite translation spell? I enjoy Traduire Texte- but I wonder if a Bulgarian spell might be more effective. What do you think?

Hope you are doing well,

Hermione Granger

A/N: A few people have asked about how Harry and Ron are faring without their most studious third! So, I've added omakes to the end of the previous summer letters, giving a slightly tongue and cheek account of how the boys are doing on their own.

In these beginning books, most of Hermione's role has been to provide necessary exposition for the world or to go on very self-contained subplots that don't affect Harry's life overmuch. I'm excited to see how Harry and Ron have to change their approaches in future books!

For book three Hermione's contributions to the plot are: Crookshanks, researching Buckbeak's trial, confiscating the firebolt and the time turner.

With no Crookshanks (Hermione bought her eagle owl, Sophia, instead to keep intouch with her friends), scabbers has a slightly calmer year. When the rat makes a mad dash for freedom, Ron is confused but can't blame it on anyone.

Researching Buckbeak's trial comes to naught in the book- it's a closed loop subplot- so there's no real change.

Hermione never sends Harry's broom to be checked over for tampering, so Draco's acceleration jinx was considered a time-delayed attack on Harry. Thus Harry doesn't win the match against Ravenclaw, so Slytherin wins the Quidditch cup, but not the house cup. I way too easy see Dumbledore awarding Harry points for 'bringing justice to light' or something.

Finally, for the time turner, I'm 100% convinced that Dumbledore has one in his office that he can hand to Harry, and most likely Neville, so they can go back in time and save themselves.

Let me know if you have any other ideas about how Hermione's lack of involvement will change their plots!


	7. Fourth Year pt 1

Fourth Year

"Here?" Theo asked, glancing up the train to see if they could spot any other of their year mates. Hermione looked into the empty compartment and nodded firmly. Here.

. . . . .

"Will you please come and sit with everyone?" Daphne asked. The girl looked miserable as she perched on the seat across from Hermione. "Pansy is in a total snit and Millie- well, it's harder to tell what Millie is thinking- but she seems even more glum than usual. Please, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, "I can't. You know why I can't, Daph."

"I know, I know-" Daphne waved her hands as if to ward off another lecture, "I just hate seeing you sitting here all alone."

"Oh, I'm not. Theo and Tracy are here- they just ran off to use the loo."

Curiosity brightened Daphne's expression and she sat up straighter, an excited gleam in her eye, "You don't think-" She asked eagerly.

"They spent a lot of time together this summer," Hermione closed her book and leaned forward. She had missed Daphne and Pansy's near-daily letters of gossip and speculation. When Theo and Tracy had disappeared for long walks around the neighborhood, Hermione had bitterly regretted not being able to turn to her two friends and grin. Twice, she had almost picked up her quill and written, but then she'd look at their last letters, full of unconsidered bigotry and fear and realized she couldn't. "I think Tracy has really helped Theo with what happened last Easter."

"An unfortunate tragedy," Daphne agreed quickly, "I wish they would catch Black soon. Well, as long as you're not alone. Though, Hermione, I don't want us to be split up! Please promise me you'll make up with Pansy and Draco soon!"

"If they apologize- sincerely- I'll consider it," Hermione said and picked up her book again.

. . . . .

"Gaunt."

"It's Granger, actually." Hermione said testily looking up, then felt a quick stab of guilt, "Sorry Zabini. It's been- well, everyone else is in the fourth car."

Blaise nodded in understanding, then stepped into the compartment and took a seat at the window. Hermione glanced back at her book- a small warmth in her chest.

. . . . .

"Well, well, well- here you are Gaunt." Draco swung into the compartment, "Haven't seen you since the- oh- Hello Nott, Davis, Zabini." Draco paused and nodded at each of his classmates in turn, looking a little annoyed to see them.

"Have a good summer, Malfoy?" Tracy gave him a nasty grin, "Find any 'uplifting' work to do?"

Draco's scowl deepened and turned from the newly blond girl, "Look Gaunt- we've been over this. My fa- would you look at me!" Hermione raised her head and smiled slightly.

"Hello Greg- how was your summer? Did you get a chance to visit the Parkinson's Krup farm we discussed?"

. . . . .

No one was speaking to each other by the time they reached the Great Hall. Even the announcement of a Triwizard Tournament couldn't break their silence.

. . . . .

In their first potions class, Hermione absentmindedly handed Daphne a tincture of powdered toad skins as opposed to a tincture of ground toad skins. Daphne, too familiar with Hermione's normal perfectionist nature in potions studies, added three drops to her potion without double checking the label. Pansy, who unfortunately bore the brunt of the resulting explosion, ended up going to Madame Pompfrey's when her skin was dyed a bright, shining blue.

. . . . .

Hermione woke up the next morning and found that she couldn't move. During the night, her hair had escaped its charms and knotted itself to her bedposts. Pansy offered to help her by cutting off all her hair and, when angrily refused, left for breakfast while snickering. Hermione missed breakfast entirely and arrived at Transfiguration with her hair looking as it had in her first year.

. . . . .

Pansy ended up calling in sick for all next Thursday when she woke up with a dark, heavy monobrow that resisted all attempts at hair removal charms, potions or tweezing. It would, Hermione later confided in Theo, disappear in twenty-four hours or with the correct Bulgarian counter charm.

. . . . .

Tracy was hit with a hair changing hex- which created a new hairstyle with a more outlandish hair color every hour.

. . . .

Millicent found that all her food for the next two days tasted like dirt- no matter what she ate.

. . . . .

Daphne's shoes took a life of their own during Herbology, sending her waltzing and tap dancing through the greenhouse, until she finally kicked them off.

. . . . .

All of Hermione's ink was replaced with Zonko's disappearing ink. The Charms essay which she had spent forty-five minutes on the previous night was blank when she pulled it out of her satchel.

. . . . .

Pansy's magazines were charmed to whistle like a boiling kettle when she opened them- Milicent's nails grew at the rate of four feet an hour for a day- no one in the dorm could find a white shirt for a week- Tracy's name was entered into Scamanders Scam Cam and she was pelted with dozens of brightly glowing letters each meal- Daphne lost her favorite pendant and blamed Tracy who blamed Pansy who retaliated with a tickling hex just a little stronger than necessary-

. . . . .

"Ms. Granger, stay after class." Professor Snape snarled down at her. Hermione froze, then, as soon as the Professor's back was turned, spun in her seat to glare at Pansy. The girl smirked back at her and quickly bent over her glow worms as if she were fascinated with their dissection.

. . . . .

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Four years in the Slytherin dorms had eroded Hermione's fear of disappointing authority figures, but Professor Snape wasawe-inspiringring figure on his worst days.

"This must end, Ms. Granger." The Professor folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her. Hermione struggled to keep her face blank.

"What must, sir?"

"Your little feud with Parkinson." The Professor hissed. It was not, upon reflection, surprising that the Head of Slytherin, a Slytherin himself, had noticed the prank war. But Hermione was astonished that he would bring it up- especially considering his lassie-faire attitude to her bullying her first year.

"We're not-" she began to protest, but snapped her mouth shut under the venomous glare of the Potion's professor. Feeling more than a little mulish, she instead asked. "Why me, sir? Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Parkinson?"

"Ms. Parkinson, for all her family name and background, has not managed to secure the head position in the Slytherin dorms," Professor Snape said. "Nor have I seen any indication of the level of maturity or leadership necessary to rebuild a friendship."

This was, Hermione realized, as close as Professor Snape came to compliments, even for his own snakes. She felt pleased and annoyed at being pleased, but instead only gave a sharp nod of her head. The Professor nodded his approval.

"Good. Events, that you should well keep in mind, are about to unfold and I do not want the most promising year in Slytherin to be divided by infighting. You are excused- so go make things right."

. . . . . .

"Pansy! I need to speak to-" Hermione stormed into her dorm and stopped short. Daphne and Pansy were seated on Pansy's bed- openly sobbing. A letter sat in Pansy's lap covered in dark blue ink- a traditional color of mourning in the wizarding world.

"Is everything-"

"What do you care?" Pansy snapped. Her cheeks were darkly streaked and Hermione felt a brief, inappropriate glee that she hadn't also bought the exhorbinately expensive "No Muss, No Fuss" Mascara featured in Witches' Weekly. It hadn't lived up to it's advertising.

"Well-"

"It's only a Pureblood who died!" Pansy continued, voice rising hysterically, "Not one of your precious Muggles! You're probably glad! You're probably ecstatic! One less Wizard to-"

"I am not!" Hermione cried, anger wiping out her previous conversation with Professor Snape, "I am not the one treating groups of people as lesser because of magical ability! Who was it who tortured those poor Muggles? Who-"

"Torture?" Pansy laughed, "You thought that was Torture? No one was hurt!"

"They had to be obliviated!" Hermione shouted.

"You wanted them to remember? You wanted them to tell all their muggle friends about us? You want us to be over run by-"

"I wanted it to never happen!"

"SHUT UP!" Daphne screamed. "I am SICK of you both fighting! I'm- Ceangail Fearg." A white light shot from her wand and wrapped around Pansy and Hermione's wrists. When the light faded, a thin, red cord bound them together.

Daphne stalked to the door, "That chord will not fade until you are both over this stupid, stupid argument! And I'm locking you in here until it does!"

She slammed the door shut so hard the tapestry on the far wall shook. Hermione inspected the red chord curiously- it was clearly magical, but she didn't recognize the language Daphne had used to cast it. Hadn't suspected the rather feckless girl to know much magic outside of their school curriculum.

"Merlin Daph. An Anger bond?" Pansy was also glaring at the chord and when Hermione looked at her curiously glared at the other girl too, "It's an old celtic spell- used to moderate arguments in ancient times. Her mother thought it was more effective for ending sibling rivalries than moderating."

"Interesting," Hermione admiteed and Pansy sniffed.

"Surprise- surprise, the Purebloods can think of interesting things too-" The girl broke off with a wince. Hermione felt the old irritation rise in her again and winced as well as the chord tightened on her wrist. So, the more they fought, the tighter the rope would get. Hermione took a deep breath.

"I like Pureblood culture," She admitted after a second, "There are rules and rituals and protocol. Once I learned them, I didn't feel as awkward as I usually do in the Muggle world." At her confession, the rope released a little and Hermione wiggled her fingers to restore the circulation.

"Funny that's not-" Pansy cut off with a quick hiss and then gritted her teeth. After a second, she continued, "If you like us so much, why are you upset about what happened at the Quidditch cup?"

A spiteful response hesitated on the tip of Hermione's tongue, but the cord around her wrist made her swallow it. Instead, for the first time, she thought about why seeing the Muggles hovering in the air made her so angry.

"Because they were so helpless and it was so pointless," Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, "We have this great gift of magic, but no one is using it to do- anything really. Terrorizing people who can't fight back? It's such a waste."

Pansy looked uncomfortable, "It wasn't against Muggles- not really. It was more to embarrass the ministry in front of the foreign dignitaries. To show that their rule isn't absolute."

Hermione had harbored private suspicions about the identities of the masked assailants. Pansy's answer confirmed those thoughts. Instead she asked, "Did it work?"

"Not really," Pansy admitted and signed in relief as the cord loosened around her wrist too. She hesitated and then took a seat on the bed opposite Hermione, "The Dark Mark- that wasn't planned- it frightened my- well, a lot of the people there."

"I thought," Hermione trailed off as Pansy shook her head firmly.

"It's a lot more complicated than the history books make it, Gaunt." Pansy said flatly, "Bad as things are, we're better off without a Dark Lord- everyone is."

Hermione was silent for a moment, not quite ready to admit that she had taken the recent history books at face value and hadn't considered asking her classmates their thoughts on the last Wizarding War. It was a topic tiptoed around by nearly everyone. Eventually, she nodded at the letter,

"Did you know the person?" She asked.

"My brother." Pansy answered. Then, seeing Hermione's shocked expression, "It's not-"

"Pansy- I'm so sorry!" Hermione hurried to the other bed and threw an arm around the girl as her eyes teared up. Pansy resisted for a moment then leaned into Hermione.

"I didn't even like him," She admitted, "Palin was a brute. He was rude and mean- and a terrible match for Daphne! But I still-"

She broke into tears again and Hermione smoothed down her dark hair. Daphne, she suddenly remembered, was engaged to one of Pansy's brothers. No wonder she was crying too.

"It will be alright-" She soothed but Pansy shook her head again.

"What if Daphne doesn't want to be friends anymore? If we're not sister-in-law's what sort of relationship will we have?"

Hermione had to bite back a laugh, "Pansy- don't even worry about that at all. You're going to stay friends no matter what. Now come on, let's clean you up. I have a good cold cream to remove your makeup."

"That muggle one?" Pansy asked sulkily and sighed when Hermione nodded, "Fine. Let's go. But you have to do the clear eye charm as well."

. . . . .

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered to Daphne that evening in the common room. Daphne, whose eyes were still red, shrugged.

"I'm more worried about Pansy," She confessed after a second, "Do you think she'll still want to be friends? What if she was only being nice because we were family?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

. . . . . .

"Millie, I want to make up." Hermione plunked the box of Bulgarian chocolates in front of the tall girl and crossed her arms over her chest.

It had taken an impassioned letter sent by a very expensive overnight owl to ask Victor to hunt down these chocolates. She hadn't been sure her friend would have even been able to find the right chocolatier- but apparently, the shop was very popular and Krum had overnighted the candy back to her. He'd refused any payment except for the enigmatic hint that she'd be able to make it up to him very soon.

Millicent considered the chocolate, then Hermione and then shrugged while picking up a piece.

"Ok." She agreed.

That felt too easy to Hermione, so she took a piece of chocolate herself, "Do you understand why I was upset?"

Millie nodded, "Pansy said that you thought the events at the stadium were too short sighted- that there wasn't enough creativity or class. Which makes sense to me. Wingardiam Leviosa isn't a very difficult spell." She added around a mouthful of chocolate.

Hermione hesitated, debated trying to explain her apparently inexplicable position on Muggle baiting and then gave it up for a lost cause.

"There's plenty of other ways to protest the Ministry," She sighed, "You were struggling to understand the Three Laws of Inorganic Transformation in Transfiguration yesterday. Do you want me to go over those again?"

. . . . . .

"Are you going to make up with Draco?" Daphne whispered to her during Herbology. They were harvesting bubortubor pus much to the Slytherin girl's disgust.

"Is he going to apologize to me?" Hermione hissed back. Daphne turned back to her plant with a sigh.

. . . . . .

"Draco!" Hermione's scream caught the attention of the Great Hall and, luckily, Professor McGonagall who flew down the stairs to see what was causing the commotion. It would have been a terrible sight without the greater context: Professor Moody was flinging a small, white ferret about the Great Hall, bouncing him off the floor and walls. With each hit, the small creature yelped and tried to free himself from the spell, but was instead lifted into the air again.

"What is the meaning of this!" Professor McGonagall cried.

"He transfigured Draco Malfoy into a ferret," Hermione cried- scooping up the small creature and holding him close to her chest. The ferret was shivering. It's small heart racing so fast that Hermione couldn't distinguish the individual beats.

"The coward cast a spell at an unarmed boy." The professor growled, jerking his chin to where Potter and Weasley were watching the display with equal grins of glee. Of course, they would be there, Hermione realized. Of course, they would be protected. Deep in her gut, she knew that there would be no punishment- not for the Professor. Not if he was protecting the Golden Boy of Gryffidor.

She turned on the professor with a snarl. "It was an itching jinx! In what world is transfiguring a student and causing who knows what bodily harm by bouncing him- "

"That's enough Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Mr. Malfoy seems in fine health. Hand him over and I'll undo the transfiguration."

Hermione hesitated- unwilling to give up the small, trembling bundle of fur to anyone- even the usually just Deputy Head Mistress. Too late, she realized her hand was on her own wand and she had shifted into the more defensive dueling stance. At her hesitation, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Unless you feel confident enough in your abilities to undo the transfiguration yourself, Miss Granger, I suggest you hand the boy over right now." Professor McGonagall held out an impatient hand and Hermione reluctantly handed the ferret over.

Draco protested, digging his claws into her robe and almost twisting out of her grasp. But Hermione gently detached him and set him on the ground between them, where he immediately tried to run behind Hermione's legs. Professor McGonagall waved her wand and the ferret became a boy who fell, sprawling ungracefully on the floor between them.

Weasley laughed and Hermione shot him a glare that could have curdled milk. She fell to her knees and gathered her housemate up, clutching him to her chest like she had in his ferret form. He curled inward and Hermione knew this was no elaborate display like with the Hippogriff injury last year. Draco was truly terrified.

"Professor McGonagall, I'd like to file a complaint about the gross mistreatment of a Hogwarts student."

The man's mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace, "The boy is fine. He'll think twice about attacking another student now."

"Professor?" Hermione repeated flatly, not removing her gaze. Moody's one sane eye examined her with a bright clarity.

Professor McGonagall sighed, "Alastor, we do not transfigure students under any circumstances. Understood?"

"Professor!" Hermione protested. That could hardly be the extent of the disciplinary action! Professor McGonagall had literally seen Draco being tortured in front of her eyes and she was issuing a mild, verbal reprimand!

"Enough Miss Granger." The woman snapped, "I consider the matter closed. I trust you will see to it that Mr. Malfoy receives any medical attention he needs? Very well. Potter, Weasley- continue on your way. Alastor, come with me. There are preparations to be made."

The small group dissipated slowly. Professor Moody not moving his gaze from her until the last second. As he was turning away, he muttered something to himself. Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought he said 'Mudblood.' She suppressed a shiver.

"Are you alright?" She asked Draco. The boy was still shivering, his head buried into her shoulder. He was heavier than Hermione had remembered. Quidditch must have built up more muscle than she had realized.

"I think my Boggart changed," He said weakly, "Never going to look at ferrets the same way again."

Hermione sighed. At least he could talk. In some of the books on Transfiguration she had read, there were horror stories of terrible, lingering after effects from animal transformations- especially unwilling ones. Sometimes people forgot how to speak, how to walk. In the worst cases, they forgot they were human all together.

"Come on," She said, shifting to get to her feet, "Madame Pompfrey needs to take a look at you."

"No!" He pulled her back down, "Not yet. I can't- can you do a privacy spell? I don't want anyone to see-"

Hermione nodded and pulled out her wand. It was hard to cast with Draco half collapsed over her, but she managed a decent notice-me-not shield and privacy ward. People might stumble over them, but it was unlikely. The worst part for Draco of the whole mess might be that it had happened in front of Potter and Weasley. The humiliation would be difficult to live down.

"What happened Draco?" She asked softly and ran her fingers through his hair. He relaxed slightly at her touch.

"They insulted my mother." He whispered. "No one is allowed to talk about her."

Hermione had never met Narcissa Malfoy but she knew that Draco adored his mother beyond belief. The affection went both ways as shown by the weekly care packages that his mother sent even into his fourth year. There would be no point in lecturing Draco about discretion or forbearance.

"Well, next time try not to hex Potter in public."

. . . . . . . .

"Put away your books. This year we are covering curses, though I doubt any of your need much further education." Professor Moody stormed into their classroom and glared at each of the Slytherins in turn. Draco barely suppressed a whimper and sunk further into his chair under the Professor's glare.

"Well, who can tell me what a curse is?" The professor barked. Hermione, who would normally already have her hand raised and mentally preparing to answer the question, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man.

"You." The man pointed at Tracy who was glaring back at the Professor. Though Draco had not wanted to tell anyone about the ferret incident, word had gotten around no doubt through Potter and Weasley and the Slytherin fourth years were aghast at the treatment of one of their own. Though the other houses were raving about the professor's classes, none of the Slytherins had enjoyed it. Worse, Professor Snape would not or could not do anything about their complaints.

Tracy leaned back insolently in her seat, "Anything the Ministry says is a curse."

"Just what a Dark Wizard would say." The professor snarled, "Who are your parents."

"No one you've heard of." Tracy sneered. "What does it matter."

"Ten points from Slytherin." The professor glared at them all in turn. The loss of house points barely phased Hermione. It was unfair, yes. But house points clearly didn't matter much in this school. The Defense professor continued, setting three jars on the edge of the desk. Each of the jars held a spider and Hermione was suddenly very concerned about what would happen.

"I argued with Professor Dumbledore about teaching you this lesson. You all already know these spells no doubt. But he insisted on treating you all the same. So- the Unforgivables."

Next to Hermione, Daphne gasped, Theo paled and Blaise shifted uncomfortably as the professor upturned the first spider onto the table. A wave of his wand and 'Imperious," and the spider was tap-dancing his way around the edge of the desk.

"Malfoy- why don't you tell us about the Imperious curse," the professor growled, "Your father having so much experience with it. Unless you want to finally admit what really happened back then?"

. . . . . . .

"What are we going to do, Granger?" Malfoy hissed at her when they were gathering ingredients for their potions class.

"About what?" Hermione hesitated over the two dried rose stems, but chose the shorter one with the shaper thorns.

"Moody- he hates us. He was the most ferocious Auror in the division during the war. My father said that his only regret was that the Ministry revoked the right to cast first and question later. That they had to make arrests rather than executions."

"Professor Snape-" Hermione asked weakly, shooting a glance towards their Head of House. The man was looking worse than usual- his skin pasty and face haggard as he snarled down at a Hufflepuff's attempt.

Draco cut her off with a shake of his head, "Snape doesn't dare. Moody targeted him during the war. Hates that he's working in Hogwarts rather than in Azkaban."

"Let me think," She said, "In the mean time, let's keep our heads down and try to escape his notice."

. . . . . . .

"You have got to be kidding." Hermione cried, jumping to her feet and slamming her hand on her desk, "You want us to voluntarily go under an Imperius?" Cast by you- hung in the air unsaid. None of the Slytherins looked pleased at the suggestion and some, like Tracy, looked downright terrified.

"Professor Dumbledore approved this curriculum," the Professor growled, "Are you questioning him?"

"Yes." Hermione said flatly, "This is unacceptable. For one, there is no oversight. There should at least be-"

"You need to learn your place. Imperious!"

It would be nice to sit down, Hermione thought gently.

How nice to sit down and be quiet.

It was safe here, quiet.

No need to think or struggle.

She could just sit and smile at the front of the room.

Everything would be taken care of, she would be taken care of, as long as she just sat down and was quiet.

. . . . . .

"Hermione? Hermione?" Millicent shook her shoulder gently and Hermione looked up. Her eyes ached and her throat felt so constricted that she almost couldn't breath. "Are you ok?"

She was back in her dorm. Her safe dorm- or so she thought. She had thought classrooms would be safe as well. Daphne was crying on her bed. Pansy had locked herself in her bathroom. Tracy had never even returned to the dorm- disappearing into the labrythin corridors of the dungeon.

"This isn't right," She whispered. Millicent looked uncomfortable.

"It could have been worse." She said and Hermione didn't want to know how Millie knew that.

"It's still not right." She repeated and forced herself into a standing position. "None of this is right." An outsider because she was a muggleborn. An outsider because she was a Slytherin. An outsider because grudges were held generation after generation and payment for the sins of the fathers was taken out of the skin of the children. None of it was right.

She would find a way to fix it.

A/N: This chapter was split in two because otherwise, it would have been too monstrously long. As always your follows, favorites, and especially reviews make my day and give me the inspiration to write.


	8. Fourth Year pt 2

Year 4, pt 2

. . . . .

Defense classes aside, even the Slytherins were caught up in the excitement of the Triwizard tournament as October 30th approached. Three schools, they were told, would be competing: Hogwarts, Beaubaton, and Durmstrang. Most of the Hogwarts gossip mill was directed towards who would be the Hogwarts Champion. While all of Slytherin, and a good number of Ravenclaws, agreed that Cassius Warrington, the solemn seventh year and who had scored the highest ever in his Arithmancy OWLS, should be the champion, few believed he would be.

"Dumbledore will find a way to finagle it," Theo predicted gloomily, "Merlin forbid Hogwarts be represented by a Slytherin."

Still, moods rose further when Daphne received a letter in the mail a week before the arrival of the rival schools.

"My cousin is coming!" She squealed, looking happier than she had in weeks, "Well, not a close cousin. But he's my father's second cousin's son. Luis and I played together in the summers. It has been years since I last saw him."

Hermione, who had only this summer been exposed to part of the greater wizarding world, was particularly excited to meet members of the other schools and compare curriculum. Hogwarts was challenging and every day brought new discoveries of magic and her own abilities, but she had the itching sensation that she was missing something.

Another, smaller part wanted to ask how the different societies treated their Muggleborns. She hadn't thought to ask during the Quidditch cup and hadn't quite felt comfortable enough to broach the subject with Viktor in their letters. Maybe after they had spoken for some time.

But even Vikor had become incredibly cagy with his letters- apologizing for short responses and promising to make it up to her soon but refusing to explain how. Hermione had gone so far as to ask Draco the schedule for the Bulgarian national team, wondering if there would be a local Quidditch game soon. On the plus side, Draco had brightened a little and launched into a twenty-minute lecture on Quidditch scheduling and how unfairly England was treated in the roster. On the downside, she had to listen to a twenty-minute lecture on Quidditch scheduling. It was good to see Draco animated again though.

. . . . . .

The day the delegations from the other schools arrive would be burned in Hermione's memory forever.

On October 30th, the Professors herded the entirety of the school out to the front lawn where they stood shivering in the chill autumn wind. Daphne had been so excited that she'd forgotten her scarf and mittens so Hermione and Pansy took turns casting warming spells on their friend as they waited.

When the Beauxbatons carriage arrived Hermione gasped, along with the rest of the school. A score of magnificent winged horses flew out of the sky drawing an enormous and delicately carved carriage behind them. It was painted a powder blue and emblazoned with the Beauxbatons coat of arms. Hermione was reminded of Marie Antoinette and other stories of the French aristocracy in their height. In comparison, the thestral drawn Hogwarts carriages were provincial.

As the carriage landed, accompanied by the sweet smell of roses and the peal of small silver bells, Millicent nudged Hermione.

"Is this the sort of magic you like?" She asked. Hermione who couldn't take her eyes of the fairy tale like vehicle nodded.

"Did you see the exquisite charm work?" she breathed, "Layering that many charms on top of each other without causing untold side effects is master level charm work!

The Durmstrang arrival was no less impressive.

As soon as the Headmistress had herded her charges, none of whom were as proficient with a warming charm as Hermione might have expected, into the castle, the Hogwarts students milled around waiting for the next arrival.

"They'll come from the air." Draco said confidently, "I hear they have strategic broom riding classes until their fourth year. They'll want to show it off."

Unfortunately, Draco was wrong. A cry went up from the left flank of the Hogwarts students as the Great Lake began to boil. In a shower of spray which soaked the poor souls standing too close to the shore, a massive pirate ship broke the surface of the lake. Hermione gasped again. Winged horses were amazing, but an underwater teleportation system?

"How-" She began, but was cut off as the ship drew closer and lowered a plank for the Durmstrang delegation to descend. Among the unfamiliar students, was a familiar face.

"Vikor!" She whispered and turned on Mille, "Did you know he would be here?"

Millie shook her head, eyes equally interested, "I knew he was a Durmstrang student. Not that he'd be competing."

Draco's sharp ears caught the exchanges and turned to her with a look of astonishment.

"You know Viktor Krum?" He asked.

"We've written a few times," Hermione said absently, trying to crane around the third year Slytherins but also trying not to look too obvious. "Does my hair look alright?"

The Durmstrang students, who were much better prepared for the bitter Scottish winds with their fur-lined robes, marched down the gangplank with military precision. They had clearly practiced making an entrance.

Still, Viktor was clearly glancing at the Slytherin group and, when he caught Hermione's eye, gave her a small nod. Warmth bloomed unexpectedly in Hermione's stomach and she felt her cheeks heat. She managed a small wave before the Durmstrang students disappeared inside.

Immediately Pansy and Daphne turned on her.

"Hermione," Daphne squealed, "You've been holding out on us!"

"You've been writing to Viktor Krum?" Pansy asked in obvious disbelief. "When did this happen?"

"Well, Millie invited me to meet the Bulgarian minister and team during the Quidditch cup," Hermione clasped her hands, feeling unaccountably fluttery, "It's a little long of a story, but Viktor asked if he could write to me and continue our conversation. And, well, I said yes."

She tried and failed to keep a small grin off her face as her friends shared a look.

"Well, that explains the Ural Owl," Daphne sighed, as they were herded into the Great Hall. "Blaise you owe me five galleons. It was a secret admirer."

"He's not-" Hermione began, but her protests were swept away as they filed back into the school.

. . . . . .

"Is this seat taken?"

The flurry of excited giggles and whispers that had erupted after the Headmasters introduction of the two schools abruptly ceased as up and down the Slytherin table students craned their neck to see who the esteemed, enviable, and downright gorgeous or at least famous Bulgarian seeker was addressing.

At that moment, Hermione realized, he might.

"We can make room," She smiled, "Draco, would you mind moving down?"

. . . . . .

"He's enraptured." Daphne cried, throwing herself across her bed when they were once again safe in their dorm room. "He came all this way to see you, Hermione! How romantic!"

"He came to compete in the Triwizard Tournament." Hermione demurred to her dorm mates annoyance.

But later, when the other girls were fast asleep, Hermione lay awake.

Viktor Krum- international Quidditch player and youngest successful seeker.

Viktor Krum- Durmstrang's top student and sure bet for the Triwizard competition.

But he was also, Viktor Krum- secret letter writer who enjoyed debating the small intricacies of international magical standards. Who sent books and bought chocolate and hadn't wanted to tell her he was coming because he wanted 'to see her face.'

But what if he could be: Viktor Krum- laughing with his Muggleborn, Slytherin friend, promoting equal rights and treatment for wizards and witches everywhere, proving that blood and family didn't matter.

Hermione closed her eyes with a sigh. She could make that work.

. . . . . . .

"Old girlfriends?" Pansy asked with a frown, "I can't think of any. Though most of what I follow of Krum is his Quidditch scores, not his social life. He keeps out of the papers."

"There must be something," Hermione pleaded and Pansy tapped her finger on her cheek.

"I'll check around. I know Fiona, the third year with the terrible curls, has a complete collection of all the witch weeklys. If our newspapers didn't cover it, then I can ask Daphne about looking at La Sorceress

"Well, if I can find Daphne," Pansy sighed. Hermione took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Between Astoria, a Ravenclaw, and Luis, who sat with the rest of his school at the same table, their friend had spent the past several meals sitting amongst the blue and bronze. Which in turn, left Pansy unaccompanied and quiet during dinner. Hermione hoped this new research project would cheer her up.

. . . . . . .

"I do not wish to give my name." Viktor sighed, folding the small piece of paper around his finger. The Goblet of Fire had been set in the middle of the Great Hall with an age line surrounding it. For a few days, Draco had debated finding a way to pass the line and submit his name, but no one had come up with a good way to do so.

"Isn't that why you came?" Hermione asked, picking at her breakfast. Several years ago, Hermione had streamlined her morning routine to maximize her time at the quiet and sparsely populate breakfast table. She loved her dorm mates, mostly, but her morning hours were the few times Hermione could be alone with her thoughts.

Apparently, Viktor felt the same way. From the first morning, he had appeared without fail to join her companionship over cups of coffee and a light breakfast. He was a quiet company which meant he was good company and Hermione rarely resented his presence.

At her question, Viktor sighed, "Yes, so I must. But anyone who came would do as well. And, there are other ways I would wish to spend my time."

Hermione couldn't keep the smile from blooming.

. . . . . .

"No one," Pansy announced triumphantly, slapping a stack of magazines on the desk next to where Hermione and Millicent were studying, "Not a single girlfriend in the entire past eighteen years."

"That the magazines were able to discover," Hermione said doubtfully, setting down her quill to pick up a magazine. On the cover, Viktor glared sullenly as he crossed his arms on his chest. Even media Viktor disliked the press.

Pansy laughed, "Please 'Mione, I now know his favorite color of pants. These reporters were thorough." She jabbed at the photograph with a long nail and Millicent looked up with interest.

"Well, that's a relief," Millie said. "It's not a short-term fling away from home. And you're not likely to spark the wrath of some Bulgarian fiancée."

"True," Hermione allowed because Millie had recently been reading an extortionately long series of romance novels where there were many cursed heroines and many slighted fiancées. "Though it doesn't shed much light on what type of girl he likes."

"Not fangirls," Pansy answered, "He mentioned four times that he disliked being stalked by witches. And found the adoring crowds at Quidditch game annoying."

"You go on and on about books in your letters," Millie added, "And he keeps responding. So he might like that."

"Not too much makeup though," Pansy said, "No one from Durmstrang knows how to do a proper eyeliner spell, so he's probably not used to seeing much color. But you still want to come across as softer than those girls."

Hermione leaned back in her chair, "Lessen my makeup routine slowly, give him a break from the limelight, and a chance to be an intellectual rather than a Quidditch star. I can do that- easily."

"Who knew your utter indifference to wizarding sports would come in so handy," Pansy said dryly and Hermione laughed.

. . . . . .

"We'll find time to spend together," Hermione whispered to Viktor as Dumbledore read out the first name from the Goblet of Fire. The boy gave her a quick, sad smile and then rose with a grim expression to the cheers of his school and the Slytherin table.

Fleur Delacour was chosen from the Beauxbatons and Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. Neither were bad choices, the Slytherins agreed, though Daphne had taken an instant dislike to the aloof French witch and everyone agreed that Cassius was a stronger contender.

"At least it wasn't a Gryffindor," Theo muttered just as the Goblet of Fire spat out an unexpected fourth name.

. . . . . . .

"Are you kidding me?" Draco seethed, back in their common room where their complaints couldn't be heard by a certain Defense Professor. "Potter isn't even a sixth year!"

"Hogwarts isn't allowed to have two competitors!" Pansy cried. "And even if it was, why Potter?"

"Who else would it be?" Blaise snapped, "Of course Dumbledore's golden boy will compete. They probably arranged the whole thing."

. . . . . . .

"He says he did not do it," Viktor confirmed later that evening. He had stopped by their table to accept their congratulations before retiring for the evening. "And now, because of the rules, he cannot forfeit. No one can."

There was a slight line of exhaustion around his eyes as he admitted it, that Hermione doubted she was the only one who noticed. He was putting on a good act for the school, but not brilliant.

"Well, you have the advantage," She said briskly to dispel the mood, "In both age and experience. Plus, we will help you however we can. When is the first task?"

"Late November." Viktor answered sounding slightly more engaged, "We will be tested on our daring."

. . . . . . .

"Where's Daphne?" Hermione asked her dorm as she exited the bathroom. Tracy, in the middle of reading a very thick novel, shrugged and Pansy didn't look up from her homework.

"She's with the French kids," Millicent answered.

Hermione realized that Daphne had been spending a lot of time with the Beauxbatons delegation lately. Most of her meals were taken at the Ravenclaw table and she kept wandering off between classes.

"Her cousin's there, right?" Hermione asked. Pansy barked out a laugh but didn't answer.

. . . . . . .

"Professor," Hermione paused in front of the potions masters class at the end of the fourth year class.. "Will there be an announcement of a cultural exchange class soon?"

Professor Snape regarded her with a dark, irritated eye, "No, Miss Granger, there will not."

Hermione frowned, "But Professor Dumbledore said that the Triwizard tournament was supposed to foster relationships and greater understanding between the three schools. I had thought-"

"That there would be more support and integration of the classes outside of meal times?" Professor Snape shut the potion supply cabinet doors with a snap. "Indeed, Miss Granger, that would appear to be the logical extension of such a sentiment."

"So is that-" Hermione was cut off as Snape interrupted her again.

"Miss Granger, you are a capable, well-connected witch. If you wish to learn more about the other schools, why are you relying on the Hogwarts staff to provide you with such information?"

. . . . . . .

"What is this?" Malfoy asked, looking up from the pile of buttons he was charming. Hermione picked one up and admired the design. It was a clever bit of charms work, but she knew better than to tell Draco that. All and any compliments went straight to his head.

"Sign it," She instructed as she fastened the button onto her robe then tapped it with her wand. The words immediately changed to a flashing POTTER STINKS. Well, the insult might be childish, but the original sentiment was good. Potter was NOT the Hogwarts champion.

"Is this something for Krum?" Draco asked a little disparagingly, picking up his pen and signing his name with a flourish.

"It's something for all of us," Hermione answered. "Malfoy, 'Potter Stinks' really necessary?"

. . . . . . .

"What is this, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape held parchment filled with thirteen odd signatures required by Hogwarts bylaw between two fingers as though it were covered in bile.

"It's a club," Hermione explained primly, folding her hands behind her back, "To learn about the other schools and share our life. I call it the Cultural Exchange club."

Snape looked no more impressed, "And you are handing it to me, why?"

"To be our club leader." Hermione answered with a bright smile, "And before you ask why there are two reasons. One, you are my head of house. And two, you'll be required to do very little work."

"Otherwise known as you wish to flaunt the Slytherin origin of this club and you want little to no oversight in how it's run." Professor Snape drawled. Hermione didn't bother to correct him and only smiled a little brighter as the man signed the scroll and handed it back.

"You'll need to confirm it with the Deputy Headmistress."

. . . . .

"What is this, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall peered down at the parchment bearing quite a collection of signatures ranging from the florid to the neat. "A club 'to foster friendly feelings across international lines and to encourage the free flow of magical education?'"

The older woman transferred her skeptical gaze from the paper to the girl. Hermione maintained her pleasant expression with difficulty. Ever since the ferret incident, she hadn't been able to look at the Professor with the same fondness. She respected the woman, yes. But only as a Transfiguration Mistress.

"There are currently no opportunities for the students of the different schools to meet and learn about each other." She started but was cut off by the Professor.

"Nonsense. There are meal times-"

"Excuse me," Hermione interrupted, "No structured times. And even now the Beauxbatons delegation sits exclusively with the Ravenclaws and the Durmstrang students sit at the Slytherin table. Let me assure you there is very little intellectual conversation that happens over lunch." At least in her experience.

Except for Viktor and a few of the more outgoing Durmstrang students, the older girls and boys kept to themselves and mostly conversed in their native language. Acquaintances in Ravenclaw admitted it was very much the same with the Beauxbatons students.

"I'll have to ask the Headmasters of the other schools-"

"I already have their enthusiastic agreement," Hermione's pleasant smile felt brittle around the edges. "All the students are sixth and seventh years who are taking this year as an independent study project. Most in the hopes of learning more about Hogwarts, which they have admitted to being disappointed at the few opportunities to do so."

It wasn't a lie, so much as an exaggeration, but the Professor's eyes sharpened anyway.

"I see Miss Granger. In that case, it seems a club is an excellent solution. However," the woman added and Hermione braced herself for the other shoe to drop. "I must insist that this club be entirely inclusive to every student no matter their year, house, or family."

"Naturally," Hermione barely kept her teeth from grinding. This woman thought that she, a Muggleborn, was going to make the club Pureblood only, "I was actually going to request your help with that. Do you have a list of all the Muggleborn students currently at Hogwarts? I was planning on sending them handwritten invitations."

. . . . . .

"Welcome Everyone to the first meeting of the Triwizard Cultural Exchange club!" Hermione beamed at the assembled group as the sonorous charm amplified her voice to be heard in the old lecture hall.

Far more people than she had expected had shown up, considering the only announcements were her handwritten invitations to the Muggleborns and a rather non-descript poster with the club's mission and date and time of the first meeting tacked to the announcement board near the Great Hall. But word of mouth traveled fast in Hogwarts.

Her Slytherins arrived, of course, and once it was leaked that Cassius Warrington would be leading the discussion of Hogwarts schooling and English wizarding culture, many of the other seventh years from all four houses arrived. Naturally, the Ravenclaws arrived en mass at the chance to learn more about the other schools and Hermione was pleased that the Hufflepuffs, including Diggory, appeared as well.

More pleasing, her invitation to the Muggle-borns had apparently touched a nerve and of the thirty-two letters she had sent out about half of the students had arrived, a good number clutching the notebooks she had suggested to take notes with.

Less pleasingly, the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students had arrived together as a show of solidarity and promptly arranged themselves neatly on opposite sides of the hall. The Hogwarts students themselves had sorted into their natural four house divisions and Hermione bit back a sigh. Bit by bit.

"My name is Hermione Granger and I am pleased to introduce our speakers from each of the three schools," The students obediently clapped as Hermione introduced Cassius, Freya, and Jean-paul as the respective authorities of each school, "My hope is that we will meet over the next six weeks until Yule break and cover a variety of topics ranging from different schooling to different sporting events."

Draco had insisted on the sports. Everyone likes sports, he argued, and maybe they could organize some interschool competition while the Quidditch field was out of commission. Hermione privately thought it would be a waste of a lecture, but knew that Draco wasn't the only student smarting from the lack of sports this year.

"Each speaker will have fifteen minutes to discuss the subject and then five minutes for questions after their lecture. At the end, there will be more time for questions and the Hogwarts House-elves have kindly agreed to serve us refreshments."

She'd crafted a careful menu for each of the meetings along with Daphne and Justin Finch-Fetchley of all people so as to avoid the debacle of the first dinner. Light punches and sweets to give people a reason to stay, ask their questions and mingle out of their dorm rooms. Of course, she had expected at most thirty students to arrive. Now, she hoped the house elves had kept track of how many students entered the lecture hall.

"If you have any suggestions for a topic or would like to volunteer to lead a lecture or a small group discussion, please reach out!"

Researching and preparing a lecture each week on a different topic would be a demanding task which is why she had forbidden Viktor or any Triwizard champion from volunteering. Instead, Freya who had a keen interest in magical history and Jean-Paul who's family was one of the oldest and most respected in Western Europe agreed to represent their schools. Cassius, in turn, might not have been Hermione's first choice as a lecturer, but she was gratified at how he brightened after being passed over for Diggory and then Potter with the Goblet of Fire. Snakes looked after their own.

"So without further ado, I'd like to present our first speaker, Mr. Cassius Warrington, to speak about the Hogwarts curriculum."

Hermione stepped off the platform and took her seat at the side of the stage next to the other speakers. As she sat down, she caught Viktor's eye and gave him a discreet smile.

. . . . . .

"Why is this Skeeter woman focusing on Potter?" Hermione frowned at the newspaper during breakfast a week later. "She completely forgot to mention Diggory and gives you less than two inches."

At her stare, Viktor glanced up from buttering his toast and shrugged. "I do not mind. It is nice to not be the most famous. It is beautiful outside, would you like to go for a walk?"

Hermione repressed a glare- only someone attending school in the frigid extremes of Finland would think November in Scotland was beautiful.

. . . . . .

"I think that's a good question Cecily," Hermione told the small, Muggleborn girl during the after lecture reception. Hermione was in the middle of attempting to transfigure a comfortable couch out of an old table so that students had a place to sit as they continued the conversation on High Holy days in the different cultures.

The first reception had been a dud. Though the lecturers gave good accounts of the different curriculum in the schools, only the Ravenclaws had asked any questions. Afterward, most everyone had filed out quickly and in the same groups, they had come in with.

Slowly though, more people stayed behind for longer and longer after each lecture as they began to become interested in the topics and meet the other students in the club.

"A very good question," Hermione repeated as the small girl preened under the attention. "In fact- Susan?"

Hermione snagged the passing fellow fourth year. Susan was a solid, good sort- the kind who was almost offensively practical and down to earth. But she had grown up on the long-established Bone estate and would know more about solstice celebrations than all of Hermione's research over the past four years.

"Susan, this is Cecelia," Hermione introduced the two girls, "Cecelia, why don't you ask Susan your question."

The little Gryffindor repeated her question and Susan brightened. They took a seat on the newly transfigured couch and Hermione left them in a lively discussion.

. . . . . . .

"Pans, are you alright?" Hermione asked as she exited the shower and saw Pansy frozen in front of the mirror. Pansy jerked, glanced over, saw Hermione and then sighed.

"It's nothing," She said in a voice that both indicated it very much was something and, at the same time, it was better not to pry.

. . . . . . .

"Dragons," Viktor hissed, sitting down next to Hermione in the library. Hermione, who was sorting through suggestions for future lectures, misunderstood.

"No, I know a lot of people have requested some sort of Magical Creatures discussion, but honestly you can learn all you want from a book. I have a couple good suggestions if you want, but I'm trying to keep the lectures to more-" She waved her hand trying to find the right word without coming out and saying 'Pureblood culture' directly. At the sight of Viktor's pale face, she froze.

"Wait- what?"

"The first task," Viktor explained, "Is dragons."

Hermione stilled. Dragons were- well, there was a reason even Muggles had heard of dragons.

"I think I know someone who can help." She said slowly.

. . . . .

"Dragons!" Draco cried, "We'll be seeing dragons? What sort of Dragons?"

They had retreated to a quiet alcove in the west wing and Hermione knew she had made the right decision. Draco had an everlasting love of his namesake and devoted hours of his life to learning everything he could about the magical creatures.

"Nesting mothers," Viktor said moodily. He had been less than pleased when Hermione arrived with Draco in tow. The two boys had never developed a strong friendship, much to Hermione's disappointment. Especially considering Draco's original adoration of the Bulgarian seeker and their shared love of Quidditch.

"Nest- Nesting mothers? Are you kidding?" Draco sputtered, "Nesting mothers are the most ferocious of all dragons- by an order of magnitude."

The information did not seem to cheer Viktor who looked even glummer, "There is a golden egg in the nest that we must retrieve."

Draco was struck dumb at the announcement, just as Hermione had been when she heard. The task seemed needlessly complicated- both for the dragons and the champions involved.

"We don't know if there's a shield on the egg," Hermione broke the silence after a moment, "But we're going to try for a summoning charm on the egg first."

"Of course you are," Draco interrupted with a smirk and a fond eye roll, "And if that doesn't work, just create a Dragon fireproof shield and wander over?"

"Possibly," Hermione said with a mock glare, but she broke and laughed, "But in case that doesn't work, we were wondering if you knew anything else to try."

"Dragon eyes are weak," Viktor added helpfully, "We learned that in school- always go for the eyes."

"Go for the eyes of a Nesting Mother?" Draco added scornfully, "Don't be daft. What if she hurt some of the eggs by accident! No, you've got to do something useful."

. . . . . .

It turned out that the egg was summon proof and Hermione was glad of Draco's advice when Krum emerged from the first task with both the golden egg and the only set of perfect scores.

. . . . . .

"A Yule Ball?" Daphne shrieked, flouncing into their dorm room for the first time in what felt like a month, "They're telling us about a Yule Ball with less than five weeks to prepare? Do they have any idea how long it takes to get dresses to get mailed and shipped- We'll have to expedite. The floo is too dangerous, but maybe they'll apperate them?

"I need to grab the magazines. We need to order and- Tracy! No come back- you can't- Pansy!"

One leg locker curse later and Pansy had a literally captive audience for the armful of magazines she plunked down on Hermione's bed.

"I think it's a great idea," Hermione said as she began flipping through last years winter season. There had been a three quarter sleeved dress robe that had been lovely. "The cultural exchange club represents only a fraction of the school. The ball will give a chance for everyone to spend time together."

"Not to mention the Champions need to lead the dancing," Pansy added with a malicious grin, "Probably going to be quite a bit of press at the event."

Hermione was blushing long before Millicent nudged her and asked if Viktor was going to ask her.

. . . . . .

"Of course, I'd love to go." Hermione smiled at the Bulgarian champion and he sighed in relief, "Honestly, it's going to be wonderful. Now, I've been instructed to ask what you are planning on wearing because we apparently need to match. And I needed to have put in a dress order yesterday."

. . . . . .

Theo asked Tracy which surprised literally no one considering the amount of time they spent together 'dueling.'

Greg asked Millicent who gave him a long look and then shrugged, saying it would be good enough.

Blaise received over thirteen invitations from third to seventh years but rejected each of them.

"I might as well take Vincent," He drawled one evening, "So he doesn't feel left out. Vincent, are you going to object?"

Vincent gave Blaise a long look and then shrugged, saying as long as they didn't have to dance, it would be good enough.

Daphne received no less than three invitations from two Beauxbatons boys and one girl and somehow managed to accept all of them, though Hermione only heard that through the grapevine. It was hard to pin Daphne down.

. . . . . .

"Hey, Hermione-" Draco slid into the seat next to her at Charms later that day, "Has Viktor asked you-" His voice trailed off awkwardly.

"To the Yule ball?" Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "Yes, earlier this morning in fact. Why?"

"Oh no reason," Draco replied, tugging on the edge of his sleeve, "Just wanted to make sure that – well, that he wasn't going to be a cad."

Hermione barely suppressed her eye roll, "Viktor is not, as you so quaintly put it, a cad."

"Well, these international Quidditch stars. They have a witch at the end of every floo-" Draco started before Hermione interrupted him.

"Who are you asking Draco?"

Draco sighed, "I'm not sure. You're going with Viktor. Daphs doing her own thing. Millie- well, do you think Pansy would go with me?"

Hermione quickly reviewed the current list of Pansy's crushes and admirers. To be honest, between Viktor and the Cultural Exchange Club, Hermione hadn't been able to keep up with the normal whirl of gossip and intrigue that made up Pansy's life. But far as she knew, Pansy wasn't pining after anyone.

The memory of Pansy in the bathroom flashed through her mind quickly but Hermione shrugged it away.

"I think that's a good idea." Hermione said after a moment, "You should get her white lilies. They're her favorite right now."

. . . . . .

This was the third Christmas in a row that Hermione would never forget.

But it was funny- of all the memories, it was Draco's low whistle of approval as all the girls emerged from their Dorm that lingered the longest.

. . . . . .

"Is that- Is that mermish?" Cassius asked carefully after Viktor snapped the two halves of the Golden Egg back together. "I've heard something like that in the lake- late at night."

. . . . . .

"This book says that Mermish is best understood in its native medium. While most language works through the medium of air, Mermish among a few other dialects is almost indistinguishable out of it's native the water."

"I should go swim in the lake?" Viktor asked with a frown. Hermione shivered at the idea.

"Mayble Flint owes me a few favors, I'll get you the password for the prefect's bathroom."

. . . . . .

"Miss Granger? May I borrow you for a moment?"

Hermione turned to see the kindly face of Headmaster Dumbledore twinkling down on her and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She hadn't done anything against school rules- well, hadn't technically done anything against the school rules. Not yet.

"Sir?" She asked, "I do have class-"

"I'll be sure to reach out to Professor Vector and explain your absence." The Headmaster smiled, "I'm afraid we need your assistance with the Second Task."

. . . . .

In the distance, crowds were cheering. But all Hermione could hear was the gentle lap of waves against the dock. Her nose and mouth were full of lake water, but she couldn't vomit. Not now, not when all eyes were trained on the Champions and their rescued treasures.

Hermione wasn't sure if she liked being considered a treasure. It smacked of the Damsel in Distress story she'd always hated growing up.

Still, for the benefit of the cameras, she smiled and held gratefully onto Krum's arm and tried not to think about how tightly her robes clung to her in the cold Scotland winds.

. . . . . .

"Muggleborns," Jean-Paul asked with a wrinkle of his partisan nose, "Are you sure, Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, "The statute of secrecy is of great importance for wizards across the globe. To my knowledge, magical children are born of mundane parents universally as well. I'm interested in knowing how the different schools handle the placement of Muggleborns."

Freya gave her a narrow look but finally shrugged.

"Why not." She asked, "It could be interesting."

. . . . . .

"Beauxbatons follows the law of Tabula Rossa that is shared between most of the city-states in greater Wizarding Europe." Jean-paul smiled charmingly across the room. More people than ever had turned up to this meeting. Clearly, the topic of Magical Integration had hit a nerve with both the English Pureblood and the Muggleborns.

"Which is?" Hermione prompted after a moment.

"Ah, the erasure of the childhood in both the child and the Mundane family. For all intents in purposes, the child simply never existed in the Muggle world. He, or she, is then adopted by a foster family and raised as one of their own.

"Of course, in these days, it is becoming increasingly necessary to provide a fake body for the mundane family to mourn. Records are becoming quite extensive and it is impossible to erase every mention. There have been a few incidents of over curious and aware mundane police. But," He shrugged elaborately as if to say 'what can you do?'

The swirl of whispers that ran through the English students told Hermione that she wasn't alone in her horror. To have her family erased completely? To be raised as the daughter of another family simply because of her magic?

"Thank you, Jean-Paul," She said stiffly, "Freya, how does Durmstrang accept Muggleborns."

"We do not accept Muggleborns." Freya said flatly. "Children who have no knowledge of our culture or traditions cannot hope to understand our teachings."

Cassius leaned forward eagerly, "But surely there are magical children in the Muggle world, how do you deal with them?"

"We-" Freya hesitated for the first time, "For the sake of the herd, the weak must be culled."

The silence in the room was deafening. Hermione found her voice first.

"You kill them?" She asked quietly.

Freya waved a hand, "There are not many. Perhaps some, if they are young, are sent to orphanages? I don't know. There are not so many cases. Our villages are much more isolated from the Muggles."

All the other students were staring at the Durmstrangs with a variety of horrified expressions. Hermione met Viktor's eyes over the heads of the other students, but he turned away.

"Um, thank you, Freya." Hermione said, "Cassius?"

The boy took a moment to collect himself. When he spoke again, it was with a quieter, more withdrawn tone than Hermione had ever heard before.

"At the age of eleven, Muggleborns are accepted to Hogwarts. That's- that's it."

"What?" Jean- Paul cried, "They come to the school knowing nothing of Magic or the Wizarding world? But how do they integrate into your culture?"

"They-" Cassius looked at Hermione a little desperately, "They don't?"

"Over half of the Muggleborns return to the Muggle world," Hermione interjected smoothly. This at least she was confident on, "Well over half. Those who stay do so because they marry a half blood wizard or witch. Otherwise, there is not much for them here."

The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth. For so long she had been concerned with only her future, what she would do after Hogwarts. But now, with her close connections to some of the most eligible names in Wizarding Britain, she was confident that she could find an Apprenticeship anywhere she desired.

But what about the rest? Hermione thought, looking over the other Muggleborn faces in the audience. They hadn't had the same opportunities as her. Hadn't fought to make the same friends or learn the right archaic laws that made up the Pureblood world.

. . . . . . .

"Sir?" Hermione asked as the moment of silent drew out between them. Professor Snape looked up from the slip of paper- a proposal for altering the format of the club- and Hermione laced her hands together more tightly behind her back.

Finally, the professor sighed and shook his head.

"This, Miss Granger," He said, "Is a risk."

. . . . . .

"Granger- my group is all Muggleborns!" Draco half-whispered, tugging on her sleeve as she walked past.

It was the first day of the small group section in the Cultural Exchange club. Hermione had sold the idea as a chance for more intimate question and answer sessions between the different schools and houses after a semester of listening to lectures. While many of the older students were indeed grouped with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, a handful of the more receptive Purebloods had been given groups of younger Muggleborns.

Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to spring the idea on her housemates.

Hermione mentally shrugged and grabbed Draco's arm in a grip a little too tight.

"Yes," She hissed, "They are. Muggleborn students who I have noticed are fascinated by the magical world and totally lost on how to behave. Are you seriously going to tell me that the future Lord Malfoy is going to neglect his duty to steer the course of the wizarding Britain by not instructing them?"

She let go and Draco stumbled back, looking a little shaken. For years, Hermione had tuned out the boy's rants on the future of the wizarding world and the duties pureblood heirs had to uphold the old traditions. Throwing those words back in Draco's face? Well, that was satisfying.

"Now, if you want them to behave in a way befitting a proper witch or wizard, tell them how." She said and added, in a low voice before Draco could depart, "I don't trust anyone but you to do it right, Draco."

Gratifyingly, the boy brightened at the words of trust and when he swung around to the small group of mostly Quidditch mad little boys, it was with his usual superior smirk.

. . . . . . . .

"Um. Sir Malfoy?"

Conversation quieted at the Slytherin table that lunch as the pair of small Ravenclaw boys approached and executed a bow that wouldn't have been out of place a century ago. Draco straightened and waved his hand, as though allowing them to speak further.

"Could we- um- Could we – uh- request your boon-" the first one faltered until his friend broke in impatiently.

"Could you show us those cool flying moves you talked about at the club yesterday? We barely got to get up on our brooms and what you said sounded really cool and-"

Draco pretended to consider it for a moment, "I believe I could spare some time after dinner this evening. Meet me at the Quidditch pitch and bring warm coats."

The boys exchanged grins of delight and ran off. When someone at the table sniggered, Draco sniffed and said loftily.

"It is important to instill the right sort of interests at a young age. And it is our duty to make sure that our wizarding culture persists."

Hermione hid a smile behind a mouthful of mashed potato.

. . . . . . .

"Granger, do you have a minute?"

Hermione looked up from her homework to see Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot standing at her table. She nodded and the two of them took their seats among the books.

"We think you're doing a good thing with the club," Hannah squeaked. "Especially with the Muggleborns. Justin said he's learned more in the past three months than all the years at Hogwarts."

"Thank you?" Hermione said, not sure where the conversation was going. Susan took up the conversation.

"We've spoken with Professor Sprout and Professor Burbage- who does Muggle Studies- and we'd like to offer a first year elective for Muggleborns on some basics of the wizarding world. Would you like to help us next year?"

An unhealthy reliance on bureaucracy never solved anything, Miss Granger- Professor Snape's voice echoed through her mind and Hermione hesitated before agreeing.

"It's an amazing idea." She finally allowed and both Susan and Hannah grinned. "Thank you so much for asking me, but I'd actually like to see the idea gain traction outside of my ideas. I'm more than happy to act as an advisor at the start." She added because it was a good idea and she wished first year Hermione had some access to the knowledge.

If anything, the two Hufflepuffs seemed relieved. "Of course. We'll definitely keep you informed."

. . . . . .

"Viktor… it's a generous offer." Hermione hesitated, staring out across the water. After the second task, she hadn't seen the Durmstrang boy as often. Which is why she had been guilted into accepting this walk around the lake.

"You are wasted here." Viktor insisted, "In Durmstrang, there would be so many more opportunities for you. No one to question you or hold you back."

"Except that, I am still Muggleborn," And there was a reason that Muggleborns weren't allowed in Durmstrang. None survived.

Viktor shook his head. "No one would know. We would keep it quiet. You could start with a fresh slate. With nothing holding you back-"

Later, Hermione could give an exact description of the curse she threw, the counter curse, and the origin- but she could not explain why she had cast it.

. . . . . . .

"Pans?" Hermione leaned forward to squeeze her friend's shoulder. "You have to tell me what's wrong." Parkinson had had a stormy look on her face for the past four days and it was only now, in the middle of the crowd, that Hermione had a chance to ask and know Pansy couldn't duck away.

Pansy seemed to know it too.

"Daph's with the Batties," She hissed, jerking her chin towards them, "You've been busy with the club and Viktor. Theo and Tracy are an item. And- It's all just changing. What if you go to Durmstrang next year? What if Daph goes to France?"

"I-" Hermione hadn't known that her conversation had been overheard, "Pans, I didn't say yes."

"Yet." Pansy bit out, "And why wouldn't you? Viktor adores you. He's rich and famous and you two look wonderful together and at least in Durmstrang they wouldn't care so much about-" The girl bit off her final word and shook her head.

"Everything's changing. Everyone is leaving."

"Pansy that's-" Hermione sighed, not knowing the right words to comfort her friend, "Nothing stays the same."

. . . . . . .

"This is why we couldn't have Quidditch?" Draco snapped. "This? A stupid hedge maze."

Hermione didn't bother to answer, instead, she craned her head looking for Krum. After their last conversation and how things had fallen out. . .

Well, she had at least wish him luck in the tournament.

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around her stomach, watching the bright bursts of light as the champions fought their way through the ever shifting, ever-changing maze.

Not a bad description of life, she thought bleakly. We're all fighting our way to an unknown center through unknown dangers and the path shifted at every turn. Nothing did stay the same.

. . . . . . .

Of course, after seeing the body, everything changed.

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your support for this story. A lot happens in this chapter that doesn't flow together very well. It's becoming clear that this whole story will require a re-write with actual scenes instead of snippets. Krum's storyline didn't progress how I thought it would, Draco wasn't as jealous as I thought, and Hermione is a lot less comfortable with romance even after spending so much time with the Slytherins.

As always, your follows, favs, and especially reviews make my day!


	9. Summer Letters IV

Summer Letters Year 4

Hello Draco,

Theo, Tracy and I made it home safely. There are no signs of anything different- if anything, the familiarity is suffocating. My parents don't know anything, obviously, but neither does the Daily Prophet.

How was your return trip? I saw you mother come to greet you at the platform, but you both left before we could say goodbye properly. Is your father feeling ok?

Write soon!

Hermione

. . . . .

Draco,

Have you heard anything interesting lately? Everything is terribly dull on the home front- still no news at all from the news papers.

Please keep in touch this summer!

Hermione

. . . . .

Draco,

It's been three days and I haven't seen your owl. Are you ok?

Hermione

. . . . .

Malfoy,

I've started our summer homework. Yes, I know we have ages before school. Don't start. But part of my independent project, I found a fascinating privacy spell. You enchant a quill and ink- both are important- to only be read by an intended person. It's resistant to most reveal spells.

The person then taps the paper with their wand and says "I am Draco Malfoy" and the hidden message is revealed.

I'm sure Professor Vector will appreciate the idea as a way to uncover possible new explanations for the rather banal letters sent between the 17th century arithmaticians. I've included copies of the text for your own research.

Granger

 _Draco,_

 _I hope you figured out how to read this. It's quite a clever piece of magic. The only problem is that my words disappear as soon as I finish them. Sorry for any spelling mistakes!_

 _Are you ok? I'm worried. I've heard from barely anyone this summer and Tracy and Theo aren't much help. Please, please, please write back. Even if it's only to say that you can't._

 _Hermione_

. . . . .

Granger,

Everything is pretty boring here. The manor is nice. Mother is showing me a few of her favorite gardening spells to help combat rose fleas. We have a lovely rose garden- it should be first in all the Herbology magazines but mother insists that beautiful things are more precious when they are secret. AND ARE ONLY REVEALED TO THE RIGHT PEOPLE.

How are Nott and Davis doing? Is Nott still living with you? Might be for the best. He seemed a lot healthier this year.

Greg and Vincent have gone on a big trip with Mr. Crabbe. Apparently it's a family tradition for when the son's turn 15 to take them out on some manhood ritual. They won't tell me anything about it- which is fine I guess.

Has Daphne been plaguing you with postcards from Europe as well? At least she and Pansy look like they are having a good time. Doesn't leave much for us to do though, does it?

Well, I could go on and on, but I am taking a leaf from your book and starting my homework for Professor Vector early as well. Thanks for the reference material. THEY WERE VERY USEFUL.

Draco Malfoy

 _Hermione_

 _This spell is brilliant. I hope you got my subtle hints and can actually read all of this._

 _I don't know what is going on. My father locked himself in his study when I first came home and has now disappeared to the Hunting lodge. People, not good people either, keep stopping by the house and asking to speak to Father or Mother in their studies._

 _I know mother is worried, though she hasn't said so, so I can only assume what we thought happened has happened._

 _Hermione- there are Muggleborn's owling me asking for clarification. Because of your classes, they think I'm an expert of all things in the wizarding world. They want to know if what Harry Potter said was true and who- well- what that would mean. What do I say?_

 _Mother wanted to know why I was getting so many letter from Muggles. I don't know what to say to her either._

 _Draco_

. . . . .

Dear Malfoy,

That is fascinating about the rose fleas. Are your mother's roses magical? My father grows a few varieties of roses in the back yard and he is having an awful aphid infestation right now. None of the chemicals from the store are working and the poor roses are being devoured.

Is there a potion that your mother uses? I wonder if it might work on non-magical roses as well.

Nott and Davis are traveling together. Her father is on tour during the summer festivals and offered to take them along as a break from sitting at desks all day. Theo seemed excited, though Tracy is threatening to let him get a tattoo or piercing. I think he might actually do it!

And yes, I have received twenty-seven postcards so far. How much do you want to be that Daphne has found a cute photographer and is getting the postcards made just to flirt?

That sounds fascinating about Greg and Vince! Though I thought your family and theirs have some loyalty bond?

How is the rest of your homework going?

Granger

 _Draco,_

 _I'm so glad that you are writing! I thought for a moment that with everything that had happened you might have been hurt or- well. Have you heard from Millie? I've sent her several letters and even sent her the spell, but haven't heard anything back. Is she ok?_

 _As for the Muggleborns- you have to answer them. Use your discretion, but give them a warning. If things are as bad as we suspect, we might have to find other arrangements for them._

 _As for your mother. . . could you tell her the truth? Most of the purebloods seemed ok with having the cultural exchange club. And you are their expert in all things wizarding right now._

 _Hermione_

. . . . .

Dear Granger,

No, my mother's roses aren't magical actually. Thanks to your question, she spent half the afternoon lecturing me on the magical uses of non-magical flowers in potions and rituals. I frankly did not need to know that much about rose hips.

But she's very intrigued about your father's roses and the chemy-things. I explained that they were muggle potions. Could you say more about them in your next letter?

The Crabbe and Goyle family's swore allegiance to the Malfoy's ages ago, but they aren't HOUSE ELVES Granger. They are still respected pureblood families and have their own traditions to follow. The only reason they are going together is because Greg's mother and Vincent's father are siblings. So they are both technically part of the Crabbe family.

Anyways, yes. I have started. Since there is literally nothing else to do lately.

Malfoy

 _Hermione,_

 _Millie is fine- mostly. I flooed to the Bulstrode's yesterday and we had tea. She didn't mention your letters, even when I asked if she was keeping up with our other housemates. Maybe her father is keeping them from her? He was- well- he knew my father, if you know what I mean._

 _She looked a little tired- more than usual. I offered for her to drop by the Manor, but maybe you should ask Pans and Daph to ask as well._

 _I told the Muggleborns not to worry right now, but to study hard and let me know if anything unusual happens to them. They're good kids- better than a lot of pretentious snots I've endured around the holidays. Bright too- they're going to be ok, right?_

 _Mother was actually very interested in the class. She wanted to hear all about what we learned and taught. She thinks Warrington was a great choice to represent Hogwarts._

 _Draco_

. . . . .

Dear Malfoy,

I don't know why you're in a tizzy from spending a few hours learning about magical properties of mundane items. I'd love if my parents could tell me about how our window still garden could enhance a potion rather than a sauce.

Instead, all they want to talk about is the increase of gum recessions in British men over 50 and how soda is causing more cavities. Speaking of, Mum is going away to a three week conference of dental business practices, so soon I won't even hear about that.

But I asked my father about chemicals for roses and was given a book to read. I copied the introduction, let me know if you mother has any other questions.

Granger

 _Draco,_

 _I'm not sure. I've been reading some old history books on the first war and. . . It's really impossible to say what will happen if we don't know what His plans are. Most of my research on resurrections or intense rituals, indicate that you never come back the same way._

 _If we are lucky, maybe he'll have returned with the intense desire to grow sunflowers and enjoy the simple pleasures of life rather than establishing a permanent pureblood rule in Britain._

 _Hermione_

 _P.S- I'm sorry if I implied that Crabbe and Goyle were house-elves. I just know they are your best friends and it's a little odd to not see the three of you together._

. . . . .

Dear Granger,

What are gum recessions? They sound awful.

Also, my mother 'wishes to confess that she can make neither snout nor talon of the introduction you kindly and exactly copied for her. She wonders if it wouldn't be too great an inconvenience to stop by and learn about these chemistries directly from the master himself.'

Is there a time that would work best for you and your family?

Malfoy

 _Hermione,_

 _I don't know what's going on. Mother just announced that she wants to come visit you and your father to learn more about roses. She's never done that before, but she has that tone where she's going to get her way- no matter what. Sorry. I've only seen her do this a handful of times before._

 _Draco_

 _P.S. I don't know what the plans are, but you shouldn't joke about this Hermione_

 _P.P.S I wouldn't call Greg and Vince my best friends. I've just known them since before we were magic touched._

. . . . .

Dear Malfoy,

It was wonderful to have you and your mother drop by to see the roses. My father was delighted to meet a parent of one of my classmates.

I hope it was good for you to see Theo and Tracy as well. They came over as soon as they learned of your plans.

Granger

 _Draco,_

 _What did you mother say? Anything? She's so hard to read. I can't tell if she enjoyed herself or hated us or anything. Did we do alright? I cleaned the house four times before you came._

 _Also, Theo won't stop laughing at your reaction to the television._

 _Hermione_

. . . . .

Dear Granger,

Thank you so much for hosting my mother and I to learn more about roses and meet your father. We had a lovely afternoon and it was very good to see Nott and Davis again as well. My mother says to mention that she was charmed by your father's garden and to thank him for his gift of the Py Bug Killer. She will report back to its effectiveness.

Have you finished your homework?

Malfoy

 _Hermione,_

 _I don't know. I honestly find mother hard to read as well. I have no idea why she insisted on visiting your parents and at their home and she hasn't said a word since- just shut herself up in her study._

 _Your house wasn't what I expected either, though your father seems nice enough. I see where your bookishness comes from. What did your parents think of me?_

 _Tell Theo to shove it. He probably reacted the same way the first time._

 _Draco_

. . . . .

Dear Malfoy,

Congratulations on your prefect status. It looks as though we will both be missing our evening studies. I hear that fifth year prefects are usually given the worst jobs.

Also, please tell your mother that my father was equally 'charmed' and wants to know how the bug killer worked. He's actually been talking about getting an owl this year so that he can send her more if she'd like.

Five years without worrying about communicating with me, his daughter, and one visit with your mother and suddenly he feels the need to be connected to the wizarding world. Honestly!

Granger

 _Draco- seriously. I'm annoyed. I half swear my father just discounted all of the wizarding world and magic until he met your mother. Now he won't stop asking about it. It amuses Tracy, she's staying with us again, but I can tell Theo is a little concerned about the statute of secrecy. And now he- father, not Theo- wants to go to Diagon Alley and see if he can buy some of that rose flea killing potion you mother mentioned and maybe some books on magical gardening and seriously what did we start?_

 _He says you remind him of a Byronic poet. He wants to know if you've read any Keats. He is seeing me writing this letter and wants to know if there are any wizarding poets. And I'm stopping right now, because if he ever was a wizard, he'd be a Ravenclaw._

 _Hermione_

. . . . .

Dear Granger,

Congratulations as well on becoming a prefect. Yes, I have heard that the fifth year prefects receive the worst of the duties, but I have no doubt that we'll be able to give the least agreeable to the Gryffs or Puffs. It is an OWL year and I don't plan to waste all my evenings patrolling the hallways.

Speaking of, have you begun revising for the exams?

Malfoy

 _Hermione,_

 _Really, congratulations on the prefect appointment. I'm not surprised it is you, and honestly, I'm a little pleased. Are Pans or Daph are terribly upset that they didn't get it? Is it mean to say that I'm not surprised they didn't consider Davis or Millicent? I have to say, for Slytherin's their ambitions are pretty mundane._

 _Speaking of, did you hear about Daph's engagement to Patrick Parkinson? Pansy seems astonished, but Daphne seems pretty blasé. What do you think?_

 _I'll be glad for school to begin. Are you doing your diagon shopping soon? Mother has hinted a few times that she wouldn't object to running into your parents at the bookstore say._

 _Draco_

. . . . .

Dear Malfoy,

Yes, I have. And before you launch into a diatribe about the appropriateness of Ravenclaw, I want to say upfront that I'm not very concerned about these tests. As a house, we've done a very good job staying on top of our classes and broadening our scope of knowledge through extra studies. I don't think we will have to much beyond our normal schedule. Maybe a few Sunday mornings.

I've attached my study schedule if you'd like to look over it.

Granger

 _Malfoy,_

 _No, if anything, Daph and Pans are happy to dodge the bullet of extra work. And don't dismiss their ambitions. I'd imagine it's a lot easier to become a Dark Lord than genuinely happy- which they are both striving after in their own way._

 _Frankly, and don't tell Daph or Pans this, but I'm only surprised that the engagement didn't happen sooner. Keeping Daph's marriage in the Parkinson family means that they don't have to re-negotiate the betrothal gifts. Plus, I think Daph and Pans are both convinced that they are only friends because of this marriage arrangement. Which is – STUPID- but what can you do?_

 _We were planning on picking up school supplies on the 22nd. I know my parents, my mother especially, would be delighted to see you and your mother again._

 _Have you heard much from Millie? I've sent Sophia to her ever other week, but haven't heard a response. I just want this summer to be over. It's been both too stressful and too boring._

 _Hermione_

. . . . .

A/N: In the Goblet of Fire, Hermione plays a larger role than the previous books. Her main plot points are:

1) SPEW

2) A romance with Krum and feelings with Ron

3) Rita Skeeter

In this universe, Hermione has never met Dobby and wasn't there to witness Winky. She only has her friend's insistence that their House-elves are happy to serve with no evidence to the contrary. Instead, her altruistic mission is to help educate the Muggleborns which she does with more success.

Viktor and Hermione's relationship advances quicker due to their earlier letter writing, but ultimately comes to naught due to their different policies of Muggleborns and a lack of chemistry (at least that I saw)

Because Hermione is not Harry's friend, she doesn't learn about Rita Skeeter's animagus form. This may have repercussions later on in the story.

Other than that, Harry seems to handle all the tasks sans her help, though maybe more rockily since he and Ron don't have anyone to keep them together.

As always, thank you for your reviews, follows, and favs. They are the bread and butter to my writing!

Edit: thank you to JaviGrace and mira1111 for pointing out the formatting snafu.


	10. Fifth Year pt 1

Year 5

"Millie! Wait-" Hermione dashed out of her compartment and after the larger girl who had swept past without so much as a glance. "Millie- please-"

Finally, she caught up to the other Slytherin when two Gryffindor boys tumbled out of their carriage and blocked the hallway. Hermione grabbed Millicent's sleeve and tugged her around more forcefully than she intended.

"I didn't hear from you all summer." She accused, "Why didn't you write. Or floo. Or-"

"Dad said I couldn't." Millicent couldn't meet her eye, "He said that- because of what- I can't associate with-"

"Mudbloods." Hermione said flatly. She dropped Millicent's sleeve. "I see."

"Hermione-" Bulstrode pleaded. "It's not you-"

It was first year again, Hermione realized. Only worse. There was a tension in the air- a fear that she hadn't noticed four years ago. Everyone had seen Potter return with the body while screaming about the Dark Lord. Everyone knew things had changed.

But, so had she.

"Millie," Hermione said gently, "I know it's hard, but eventually you're going to have to make a choice: do you trust your father's prejudice or your own experience?"

. . . . . .

"Draco, I believe it is time to go to the prefect carriage?" Hermione stopped by the compartment where her other friends- hopefully- were sitting.

"Is Millie-" Daphne began, but Hermione gave a sharp shake of her head to cut her off.

"She's sitting with the Flints." Hermione said softly. The other Slytherins glanced between themselves, but no one made a move to get up and follow after their year mate. A small part of Hermione's soul relaxed.

"Her father is really strict," Daphne said placating, "I'm sure-"

"Draco?" Hermione asked, suddenly desperate not to hear the justifications for why her friend- her first friend really- was choosing not to associate with her. Anywhere, even the Prefect carriage would be better.

"Alright." Draco nodded and rose, "Let's go."

. . . . . .

"Hermione!" Hannah Abbot leapt out of her seat as Hermione and Draco entered the carriage. Unlike the rest of the carriages which tended towards cramped and worn, the prefect's carriage was spacious. Leather chairs scuttled around and a small bar in the back twinkled with glasses of lemon infused water and tea. Hermione shared an amused look with Draco before turning back to the Hufflepuff.

"Congratulations Hannah!" She smiled and then stumbled as the girl swept her into a tight hug. "Uh- how was your summer?"

The pudgy lines of the girl's face had disappeared over the past few months and a dark shadow rested behind her eyes. But she raised her chin and smiled.

"I was very glad to have the Wizarding Culture class to design," She said, "Susan and I have been talking with Professor Burbage nearly all summer and we've put together the curriculum for the first years. Flying lessons are being shifted to the Spring semester so the first years have a proper introduction to our world."

"Excellent," Hermione said and Hannah beamed, "What about older Muggleborns?"

"They can treat it as an elective course! We found a time that would work with most of the younger year's schedules. But for the sixth and seventh years, it depends on their course load of course." Hannah dug a schedule and curriculum out of her satchel and passed it to Hermione.

"Of course," Hermione agreed and glanced over the syllabi. Most of the topics were ones that they had covered in the Cultural Exchange club last year, but she noticed an early class dedicated to the topic of ghosts and other magical constructs. Well, teaching the first years to be wary of Peeves from early on would be a good idea.

"This looks amazing, Hannah." Hermione said with real feeling and the Hufflepuff's smile turned a little watery.

"Thanks. After- well, after everything that happened last year, it was really good to have something to focus on. Something that could help. He would have liked to see it."

Hannah was good friends with Cedric Diggory, Hermione remembered suddenly. Second cousins or something- they had spent a lot of time together last year and Hannah had been adamant about handing out Draco's badges to the students.

"I'm sure he would have." She said gently, then, hoping to distract Hannah, turned to Draco who was returning with two mugs of tea, "Draco, take a look at the new Wizarding Culture course. Didn't Hannah and Susan do a wonderful job?"

. . . . . .

"Draco- do we have to?" Hermione hissed as they found Potter's compartment. The boy hero was sitting between his friends, holding a lumpy plant and looking quite miserable. Well, if the Daily Prophet had been lambasting her all summer as it had Potter, she would have been quite put out too.

Draco only grinned at her question. "Oh, yes. It's a tradition now."

. . . . . .

Personally, Hermione found the Hat's warning song a little belated. Millicent was still sitting on the opposite side of the table, the atmosphere was tense and, as soon as Harry Potter walked into the room, a swirl of whispers began.

Then the strange woman interrupted Dumbledore.

Even the Slytherins froze, shocked, that someone- anyone- would interrupt the revered headmaster. As she prattled on about 'progress' and 'pruning' and 'evaluations' most of the students disengaged to whisper to friends or gaze longingly at the delayed dinner.

At their table, only a few kept focused.

"Did she-" Tracy turned to Hermione, "Is the Ministry doing what I think they're doing?"

"Yes." Hermione said, narrowing her eyes, "They certainly are."

. . . . . .

"Hey- Granger?"

Hermione and Draco both paused as they left their first Prefect meeting to see Padma, the new Ravenclaw prefect, standing awkwardly in the doorway. She seemed both annoyed and determined to speak so Hermione shrugged at Draco and turned to the girl.

"Hello Patil- can I help you?"

The other Prefect sighed and brushed her long braid over one shoulder, "I feel ridiculous for asking this- as a Ravenclaw- but are you planning a study group for OWLs this year?"

"Naturally." Hermione shared an amused glance with Draco. All his teasing aside, the Slytherins had once again claimed the majority of the top academic slots in all their classes. Her study sessions helped, but it took a certain level of ambition and cunning to prepare effectively for the tests. Hermione turned back to Padma, who had a determined look on her face.

"We were planning on meeting later this week to review study strategies. But Ravenclaw has their own special house techniques for studying, don't you?" She asked delicately.

Padma sighed, "We do. But there's less focus on learning and a lot more focus on showing off what you have learned. Plus, you know your techniques are more effective."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a small tendril of pleasure at the acknowledgment. It had taken four years to corral the Slytherins to study, but it was paying off.

"Well, we'd love to have you." She smiled, "And I'd love to know what the Ravenclaws teach. Maybe we can find the best of both methods."

Padma seemed relieved to be offered the session rather than having to ask, "I'd love that. Do you mind if I bring a few others?"

. . . . . .

"Ok- here is my plan for OWL revisions," Hermione said brightly passing out a neat stack of parchment to her study mates.

She had warned the Slytherins about a few other fifth years showing up, and Pansy, in particular, had been pleased to think the Ravenclaws wanted to learn something from them. Still, no one had expected Padma to bring four other Ravenclaws and two Gryffindors.

"I know everyone has different electives, which is why at the beginning of the spring semester I think it would make sense to divide into smaller, course-specific groups. Luckily, we only have had two years of each of these and- is everything alright, Brown?"

One of the Gryffindors looked positively pale at the sight of the list and was whispering to her friend. At her name, the girl froze.

"Um, I mean. It's just- this is a lot?"

Pansy leaned forward with a superior smile, "Well, some of us expect to get all O's."

"All O's?" Her friend squeaked, "But-"

"Education is very important," Daphne said blithely and Hermione had to bite back a laugh to hear the usual study-adverse girl sound so severe, "After all, we're at school to better ourselves in order to better the world. Right, Hermione?"

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed.

. . . . . . .

"Please put away your wands and open your books."

The Slytherins shared a suspicious look as they slowly replaced wands in holsters or bags. Hermione pulled out the new Defense book and set it on her desk with a dissatisfied thump. In the early skimming of the chapters, she had been less than impressed with the treatment of the Dark Arts- theoretical or not.

"Um- yes? Ms. Davis?"

Hermione looked up, a little surprised to see Tracy leaning forward with her hand raised.

"Professor, when are we going to practice these spells?"

Professor Umbridge gave them a small, sweet smile. "Well, children. You clearly weren't listening very well to my introduction. This class will be an entirely theoretical one. After all, there is clearly no reason you will ever need to practice these spells."

Tracy opened her mouth to protest, but Hermione kicked her chair and the girl snapped her jaw shut with a glare. Hermione was relieved. The last thing they needed was for the Ministry to become too interested or biased against the Slytherins. Instead, Hermione raised her own hand.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Professor, I understand why the ministry would like to create a risk-free environment in the classroom," Hermione lied smoothly. "But as fifth years our OWLs are coming up and those do include a practical portion of the DADA exam. How are we to practice for that?"

The woman's smile turned a trifle ugly as Theo did a poor job covering up a snigger. Hermione resisted the urge to kick his chair as well. The last thing they needed to do was aggravate another defense teacher.

"Ms. Granger, I assure you that this is the very thoroughly thought out program that the Ministry has created. A program created specifically in order to help you pass the OWLS and- yes, Ms. Granger?"

"That's wonderful to hear, Professor. And what is the pass rate of students under this program?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"As a pilot program, there are currently no statistics-"

Hermione opened her mouth to comment when she felt her chair kicked sharply. Behind her, Draco gave her a quick frown and shake of his head as he raised his hand.

"Professor," He said, sounding more like his father than Hermione had ever heard before, "We are delighted to be the first class to undergo such a thoroughly thought out program."

. . . . . . .

"This is a mess." Pansy moaned as they filed out of the Defense room. After an hour and a half of reading a depressingly dull and listless text, none of the Slytherins were in high spirits. Once they were out hearing, Hermione turned on Draco.

"Why did you stop me?" Hermione hissed, "This program is terribly thought through. Forget the OWLS, we need preparation for-"

Draco held up his hand and Hermione bit her tongue as they both glanced around.

"My father says that she's been appointed by Minister Fudge himself," Draco told their group quietly, "I was told we need to accommodate her- no matter what. Our families are under enough scrutiny with Potter's accusations as is."

. . . . . .

By the end of the week, they weren't the only ones dismayed and disgusted by Umbridge's style of teaching. Every other house had had some confrontation with the new Professor- though the Gryffindor's had the most spectacular. Apparently, Potter had leapt to the top of his desk and screamed that not only was the Dark Lord back but he had apparently been possessing Professor Quirrel for the first year. Which seemed unbelievable to Hermione at least.

But the news got worse when Hermione went to the next prefect meeting.

. . . . . .

"They canceled it!" Hannah sobbed when Hermione stepped into the room. At least the girl didn't launch herself at Hermione this time. "The Ugly Toad Woman-"

"Hannah!" Ernie cried, but Hannah turned on him, cheeks streaked with tears.

"It's true, Ernie! She is a horrible, terrible toad person. She canceled our Wizarding Culture class! All because we hadn't submitted the right paperwork to the Ministry. We didn't know we needed to submit paperwork! Dumbledore approved it. That's always been enough in the past!"

Hermione exchanged an awkward glance with Draco. Slytherins didn't tend towards this dramatic or open a display of emotion- not outside the circle of their friends. And Hermione didn't consider Hannah close enough to cry in front of.

"There, there." She rubbed Hannah's arm lightly and signed as the girl threw herself on Hermione, "That's unfortunate, but we can work around it. Have you submitted the paperwork? No? Well, do that first. In the meantime, we can continue with the Cultural Exchange club- we'll just hold it during those time slots and you can teach it just like you designed."

"Really?" Hannah raised her face from the wet patch on Hermione's robe, "You'd do that? For us?"

It wasn't really doing anything, Hermione thought. The club had never officially been disbanded, though Hermione had planned to focus more on her OWLS since Hannah and Susan had offered to take over the teaching of Muggleborns. As it was, it wouldn't be difficult to put up a notice and open it to the students again.

"Of course," She smiled, "I know this is important."

Hope dawned in Hannah's face again, "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

. . . . . . .

"What are you laughing at?" Hermione asked Draco as they patrolled the dungeon. Despite their resolution to not be stuck with the late night patrols, this particular evening saw them wandering the hallways looking for out of bounds students or strange events.

"You." Draco shook his head, as he opened an unused classroom and glanced inside. "You don't even realize what you're doing, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "And what am I doing, Draco?"

"You're building an army," Draco said, deciding that this classroom was clear, "Helping the Puff's with their club. Helping the Ravenclaws with studying. You just need to find a way to help the Gryffindorks to be stupidly brave and you'll have the whole school eating out of your hand."

"Oh please," Hermione tried to shove him, "You Malfoy's and your desperate desire to create epic power struggles wherever you find them."

Draco grabbed her wrist and Hermione realized just how tall he had grown over the summer. He grinned down at her.

"See what happens at tomorrow's study group and tell me I'm wrong, Hermione."

. . . . . . .

Hermione was surprised when their study group attracted more Ravenclaws and some of the Hufflepuffs, including Hannah and Susan. This was almost becoming unmanageable as students shoved desks together and created a table only in name.

But she was downright annoyed when Morag McDougal stood up among the crowd and asked,

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"About what?" Hermione asked, glancing at Draco who only gave her a smirk in response. Damn him…

"DADA," The Ravenclaw snapped. "The curriculum is unacceptable. We are in our OWL year, but the book is unreadable- far worse than the previous texts. And to have no practical session? Is she insane?"

There was the mutter of agreement than ran through the group. Hermione tapped her fingers on her study notes. She disliked being put on the spot and forced to navigate the line between her own thoughts and the outstanding politics. At least when dealing with Slytherins, she could be sure they were each doing the same.

"Professor Umbridge is confident that a solid theoretical understanding will-"

"Bullshit," Susan interrupted earning her the shocked look of the other Hufflepuffs. The redhaired girl squared her jaw and leaned forward, "No amount of reading is going to substitute real practice of spells and no book is going to replace a real teacher. We need Defense- now, more than ever."

Hermione realized with a mild shock that whatever the Prophet printed and however oblivious the students seemed at school, more than a few had suspicious that Potter had been telling the truth. In light of that, the lack of a proper defense class was jarringly negligent.

"Exactly," Morag agreed with a satisfied jerk of her head as she turned back to Hermione, "So what are you going to do?"

"Do-?" Hermione asked, "Why exactly do you expect me to do anything?"

"Well, you did start the Cultural Exchange club with the other schools last year," Draco drawled, "And the year before that you helped with some. . . personal issues."

Hermione shot a warning glance at him and he raised his hands innocently, "Are you really going to abandon us all to be unprepared for . . . the OWLS?"

Hermione glared at Draco, feeling altogether too well understood and very well manipulated into a corner. Slytherins stuck together- that she understood. Her snakes were her family. They'd proven that time and time again.

But she knew that Pansy and Daphne would be fine- no matter what happened. Even Tracy was a good enough duelist to hold her own. But what about people like Hannah? Or the Muggleborns?

"I'll think about it." She snapped, "Now, we are here to review Herbology notes from first through second years. Divide into groups and start quizzing each other."

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose- mind already pulling together different ideas- as the fifth years quickly arranged themselves around the tables. She avoided Draco's smirk.

. . . . . . .

Umbridge is appointed High Inquisitor and Hermione has a lively conversation with Terry Boot about whether the Ministry of Magic is aware of the implications of the name considering the history of the Spanish Inquisition and witch burning.

. . . . . . . .

"Professor," Hermione stopped by the Potion masters desk as the rest of the class filed out. Personally, she thought the Strengthening Solution was one of the milder elixers they had learned how to brew, so it was especially aggravating to see Umbridge take umbrage with the class. "Is it true that you applied to the DADA position multiple times?"

"Indeed." Professor Snape slowly raised his eyes from his grading book. "And as I pointed out to Professor Umbridge, they were not successful."

"Why?" Hermione asked, relieved to see the last of the Gryffindors disappear and the door slam shut. She had already told the Slytherins to go on ahead.

"That, Miss Granger, is a far too long and complicated discussion for this time being," He narrowed his eyes suddenly, "Why. What are you considering now?"

Hermione sighed and pulled some papers from her bag. "First, that you sign off on Professor Burbadge taking over the Cultural Exchange club. She, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones developed a curriculum for incoming Muggleborns and want to continue those efforts."

Professor Snape glanced over the standard club charter form and signed his name. Hermione felt like a small weight was taken off her shoulders. The club had been a good start to her plans, but it was in better hands now.

"Second?" Professor Snape prompted when Hermione hesitated.

"Professor, how would you like to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

. . . . . .

Educational Decree #23 was passed and no club or gathering of students could meet without the approval of the High Inquisitor.

. . . . . . .

"By signing this paper," Hermione laid the sign up sheet before the fifth year study group, "You are agreeing to not speak to anyone about anything I am about to say. If you do not sign, you can leave now."

The students considered the paper, then her, then each other. Because of their number, Padma had suggested using a Ravenclaw study room located on the fourth floor so they didn't disturb the other library patrons. Even then, the group barely fit into the spacious, blue clad tower room as they fidgeted and whispered among themselves. Finally, Zacharias Smith stepped forward.

"What exactly would happen if we do say something?" He asked. Hermione's grin was sweet and ruthless.

"You won't like the consequences."

. . . . . . .

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hermione asked Draco as they walked towards Umbridge's office. "It might label you as-"

"This is important," Draco interrupted, "Bones and Abbot agreed that I've got the best chance of ensuring the Wizarding Culture club is passed. Plus, they are doing all the actual work of teaching. All I have to do is show up. It's perfect."

"True, but-"

"If anyone raises an eyebrow, I'll just tell them it is my duty to instruct the younger generations in the proper way of doing things." Draco raised his chin haughtily and Hermione caught a glimpse of his father. She squeezed his hand gratefully and peeled off before the woman saw her.

. . . . . . . .

"A fifth-year study group?" Professor Umbridge asked and Daphne Greengrass flashed her most aristocratic smile. Hermione had pulled Daphne Greengrass aside and asked for a favor. Umbridge curried the favor of purebloods and few bloods were purer than the Greengrass line. Plus, Daphne's family didn't have any taint of the Dark Lord around them.

"Oh yes. We truly believe that this year will be the best showing for Hogwarts OWLS ever. All thanks to your leadership, Professor."

Professor Umbridge hummed with pleasure. "With Professor Snape overseeing it?"

"He's the most exacting teacher in school," Daphne assured her, "Unless you have another suggestion?"

"No, no," Professor Umbridge said, "The club is approved."

. . . . . .

"Is this really necessary?" Terry Boot asked as Hermione passed around a second signup sheet. "We already agreed to secrecy with the first one."

"That was for speaking about the existence of the club," Hermione snapped, "This is for its content. You will be learning Defense- real Defense- and your discretion is required."

The boy hesitated, but then added his name to the smaller list. Hermione smiled and stepped to the front of the old potions lab.

"With that," She smiled, "I'd like to welcome our Study Group Proctor: Professor Snape."

A/N: As always, thank you so much for your follows, favs and reviews. They both make my day and make the story easier to write!


	11. Fifth Year pt 2

Year 5 Pt 2

"Miss Granger assures me that you are all here to learn Defense during your off hours because you are eager to improve yourselves. We shall see.

"Your past professors have taught you a motley collection of spells and characteristics of dark creatures. What none of them have bothered to teach you is actual defense.

"Identification is only the first step and often the least important in a fight. A werewolf will be less than impressed that it can be identified by the shape of its snout and infinitely more pleased that you have no way to repel it.

"Macmillan, tell me the ultimate goal of defense."

The Hufflepuff looked startled to be called upon, "Uh- to win?"

"That is exactly the sort of thinking that will get you killed." Professor Snape sneered, "The point of defense is to survive. This may involve fleeing. This may involve shielding. This may even involve winning if by winning you mean your opponent is incapacitated or dead."

. . . . . .

Draco sighed for the third time in as many minutes and Hermione put down her quill in a huff. They were seated in the Prefect hall, reviewing the latest educational decrees Professor Umbridge had dreamed up. The prefects were given the unenviable position of creating protocols to enforce these decrees.

At the moment, ever minute Hermione had to spend considering the best way to ensure that every boy and girl kept a minimum of eight inches apart was a minute she couldn't spend thinking about other, useful things. There were classes, homework, owls, defense club, and uselessly worrying about Millie and the other Slytherins who had decided to ignore her existence.

"Are you ok?" She finally demanded.

"Tired," Draco muttered and dropped his head into his hands to massage his eyes. His parchment, which was supposed to include a minimum of fifteen suggestions for confiscating unauthorized sweets was blank.

"Not sleeping well?" Hermione asked and Draco shrugged a shoulder noncommittally.

"It's just," He dropped his hands and Hermione was shocked at how haggard he looked. She'd been so caught up in her concerns, she had forgotten to check in on him. "There's a lot going on Hermione. Owls, Defense, Muggleborns, Quidditch. Family." His voice broke on the last one.

Hermione reached over and took his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "It's hard, I know."

"It's more than- I don't know what to do." He admitted, "Even if what Potter says wasn't true- My father wouldn't have approved of the club. But they're not bad people, Hermione. They're just kids. And what's going to happen when-"

He broke off with a wince as Hermione dug her nails into his arm. The Prefect room seemed secure- they were the only ones in this corner- but you couldn't trust Hogwarts not to listen into your conversation. Draco sighed and nodded at her irritated look and Hermione relaxed her grip. When Draco spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"Mother is suggesting I don't come home for Christmas." He muttered. "She's never not wanted me home before."

"I'm sure she's trying to keep you safe." Hermione said firmly, "There's probably more going on at the manor than she wants you to know."

At Draco's miserable nod, she added brightly, "You could come home with Theo and me. I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind. We're going to go skiing- it's lovely."

"It sounds awful." Draco sniffed, "Worse than the televisy thing." But he gave her hand a grateful squeeze and returned her smile with a weaker one.

Hermione pulled his paper towards her, "You go rest. I'll finish this up. Just copy them in your handwriting before you turn it in."

. . . . . . .

"Aren't we supposed to bow?" Zacharias Smith said uncertainly, "My mother says you're supposed to bow before all duels."

"That, Mr. Smith, is because you are not dueling." Professor Snape swept over to the pair, "Do you think a vampire is going to follow the niceties of the dueling ring? Do you think a werewolf is going to hand you back your wand after he disarms you? Are you so stupid to believe that a Dark Wizard won't take advantage of your well-intentioned count off to kill you before you can defend yourself?

"Think! I am teaching you to defend yourselves. Not to duel! You can expect no mercy or compassion in a battle. Therefore you must not show it. Now begin, Mr. Smith."

. . . . . . .

"They say Harry Potter is starting his own defense group," Hannah whispered to her as they were patrolling on prefect duty. Ernie was in the hospital wing from a too vigorous fight with Anthony Goldstien who had transfigured his feet into glass and Hermione had insisted that Draco stay in the Slytherin dorms to get a good night's rest.

"Oh for the-" Hermione rolled her eyes and shone her wand down a dark corridor, "How do you know and who is joining?"

"Some Gryffindor's," Hannah admitted, "And a few younger years. Maybe one or two sixth years. I overheard Lavender discussing it with Weasley in the Great Hall. Apparently, he's going to teach them, since he's an expert on fighting dark magic."

Hermione had to press her lips together tightly to keep from saying some very unfortunate words. Finally, she sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Fine. That's fine." She decided, "The more power to them. Either Umbridge won't catch wind of this- which will be a miracle- and more people are trained. Or she will, and that will distract her away from us. But seriously- of all the stupid- people were talking about it in the Great Hall?"

Hannah nodded cheerfully and let Hermione stew in silence for several hallways before she spoke up again.

"Hermione, I was thinking of joining his group." Hannah said and Hermione whirled on her.

"Why? Is mine not good enough? Prefer to study with a Gyrffindor rather than a Slytherin?"

To her credit, Hannah remained unfazed, "No, I like your club and I like you. Professor Snape is a little terrifying, but I can already tell I'm getting stronger in my spell casting. What I'm thinking is that I could join his group as a spy."

"A spy?"

Hannah nodded happily. "Professor Snape always says that forewarned is forearmed and that the most important asset in any battle is information."

"Or effective communication, yes." Hermione agreed absently, "But what about the Cultural Exchange club?"

"Well, the semester is wrapping up." Hannah admitted, "And Draco's really taken over a lot of the teaching of the class. So between him and Susan." She shrugged a little helplessly.

"And this is something you really want to do?" Hermione asked and the Hufflepuff nodded again. "Well, I'm not going to stop you, but be careful Umbridge doesn't catch you."

. . . . . . . .

Why are you focused just on the other person Patil? You have an entire room full of objects to use, but you are wasting your energy and attention on Granger's shield. Charm the floor to ice. Animate one of the table to attack. Blast a gargoyle and make her defend against the falling block of stone.

Distract them and then while they are focused on righting themselves- attack. Well done.

. . . . . . .

"You're up to something."

Hermione glanced up to see Millicent looming menacingly over her study table at the library. Her 'study' group left very little time for actual study, but Hermione was determined to keep her grades up this year. Out of spite more than anything.

"I don't know what you're talking about Millie." Hermione said shortly. The first time in three months that Millicent deigned to speak to her and it was about this?

"Everything alright, Granger?" Two tables down McMillan glanced up from the knot of Hufflepuffs and shot a suspicious glare. Good for him. Hermione would have to mention his situational awareness to Snape that week. But she flashed the quick signal for 'all ok' and he settled back down to his own books.

Satisfying as knowing McMillan had her back, his question rather ruined all her attempts at pretending nothing was going on. Millie's glanced back at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It's the study group, isn't it?" She said. "You're doing something there. With Snape."

"Yes," Hermione snapped, "Studying."

But Millicent only shook her head. Whatever people might assume from the broad face and slow gait, Bulstrode was sharp. Sharp and observant.

"Daph and Pansy's spells are getting better." The girl insisted. "And the people in the club, they're walking differently- more observant. And show up at the Hospital Wing more often."

Interesting. Hermione schooled her expression into a mildly disdainful one and decided that they needed to include basic medi-mancy in their curriculum. The more they could heal in the club, the less obvious they'd be in the Hospital Wing.

"It's our OWL year," She said with a shrug, "Maybe they are applying themselves a bit more."

"With the study club." Millicent insisted. And when Hermione met her gaze blankly, added, "There's a lot of fifth years who aren't part of the club, Granger."

"There are." Hermione agreed.

"I'm not in it, Granger." Millicent continued.

"You're not." Hermione nodded.

"That doesn't seem fair," Millicent continued, a spot of color rising in her cheeks.

"No, it doesn't. Does it?" Hermione said and barely refrained from adding 'see how it is for Muggleborns?'

" Granger-"

"There are benefits to being my friend, Millie." Hermione said, "Maybe you and yours should consider that. Now, I have a charms essay to finish."

. . . . . . . .

"Escape is not dishonorable. Since you are not Gryffindors, I will not have to beat that into your thick skulls, but let me repeat: Escape is not dishonorable. If you are faced with an overwhelming foe and have the option to retreat, do so.

"A successful escape means you can relay important information to your greater forces, continue to learn and improve, and even return to fight again. In addition, your loved ones will be spared the delight of burying your corpse.

"There is no shame in admitting you cannot win."

. . . . . . . .

"Miss Granger, Mr. Nott, it is lovely to see you again."

Kings Crossing station was frigid in mid-December, but Madame Malfoy looked immaculate as always. It was DracDraco, pale faced and tight eyed, who followed in her wake that displayed the tension they must both feel.

"Madame Malfoy," Hermione bobbed a quick curtsey and Theo gave an abbreviated bow as custom dictated. "You're welcome to visit, you know."

The woman gave her a strained smile, "I'm afraid that won't be possible this year. But I expect to hear wonderful stories this summer from your adventures in the snow. Now-"

"Mother, I-" Draco began but his mother cut him off with a look.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior, Draco. Your Christmas presents have been shrunk and spelled not to enlarge until Christmas Eve. I'm afraid I won't be able to write but know that you are in my every thought."

"We'll take care of him, Madame Malfoy," Hermione promised and Lady Malfoy gave him a small smile. Then she pulled Draco down to kiss his forehead.

"I believe you, Ms. Granger." She said, "Now, I must return before I am missed."

Hermione took Draco's hand as his mother disappeared.

. . . . . . . .

It was not an exciting Christmas, but Hermione would treasure the memories for a long time after.

. . . . . . . .

They returned to chaos. In the wake of the largest Azkaban breakout in recorded history, the tension at the school reached a fever pitch. The students were forbidden from any mention of the Dark Lord and were told, repeatedly, by Professor Umbridge that Sirius Black was behind the entire escape, which suited Hermione just fine.

Less fine was Draco's expression when he found out that his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, was one of the escapees.

. . . . . .

"You have returned from the Holidays and I can already see you have forgotten most of what I tried to drum into you last year. Well, let us see what we can salvage.

"When you fight, your opponents may either be unknown or known quantities. Known is always preferable- no matter how strong they supposedly are. Despite every best effort, in times of crisis, you will fall back on favorite and familiar spells. If you are good enough, these will become your unique marker.

"If you know your opponents' preferences, you have an invaluable tool over them. To relate this to recent events, Antonin Dolhov considers himself a connoisseur of strange and arcane magic. His spells are difficult to guess and more difficult to remove. Against him, the best bet is to never be hit.

"Wands out. Today we will be practicing dodging."

. . . . . .

"Well, Granger, bet you're pretty scared about the news." Sally Montague stepped in front of Hermione and blocked her path to the fifth year dorm. The first Study club of the semester had just wrapped up, so Hermione was already sore, exhausted and severely out of patience.

"The news?" Hermione repeated. The common room was full of her housemates but eerily silent as every other conversation ceased and their participant's attention turned to her. An audience then. Hermione shook off her exhaustion and drew herself into her best posture. "I assume you're discussing the recent break out from Azkaban?"

"Naturally," The older girl sneered, "I bet you're terrified. I bet you're quaking in you-"

"On the contrary," Hermione interrupted, "I'm quite pleased for them."

The silence was deafening. Behind her, Pansy muffled a gasp and Daphne didn't bother quieting the jangle of her bracelets as she turned to her friend. Hermione was pleased with the result. Adopting a casual stance she continued.

"I've reviewed the court cases from the end of the last war. None of the prisoners had a fair trial- some were sent to Azkaban without any trial at all! They have been imprisoned illegally and held in torturous conditions for the past fourteen years and all formal requests for a retrial," She nodded to Violet Rosier who had been attempting through very legal means to find the condition of her father for years, "Have been in vain. Escape is the logical conclusion."

"But they-" Arthur Royal, a half-blood third year started, "They killed people." People like you, remained unsaid.

"They did." Hermione agreed, "And therefore it should not be difficult to give them a fair trial according to the laws of the Wizarding world. But-"

Part of her hesitated. She could leave it at this. Her stance had assured her that no one would bother her, that she wouldn't have to watch for curses in a dark hallway, that she wouldn't be targeted for bullying or worse. She had played the game well enough to be safe.

But- these were the next generation the Dark Lord would draw on. His foot soldiers would come from her schoolmates and his toxic philosophy would fill their ears. The ministry was ineffective and corrupt. Dumbledore's faction had no interest in their House. With no other option, they would turn to the Dark Lord as their savior and a cornered rat fights the hardest.

But- if she could offer another option. Keep them from falling into the idea of black and white-

"But-" She repeated and the rustle of whispers died down, "They were fighting for something they believed in. They were just doing it badly."

"What!" Bastion Rookwood shot to his feet, "What did you say, you-"

"Badly," Hermione interrupted and swung around to face down the older boy, "What positive changes has the Dark Lord's regime created Bastion? Slytherin is vilified. Hundreds of purebloods were killed and dozens imprisoned. Three old family lines have died out. The ministry has banned one hundred and seventy three more spells, rituals, and potions in the past fifteen years- What has he done for you!"

Hermione stepped back and slowly holstered her wand. She hadn't meant to yell, but the common room now smelled like the air before a storm.

"There are other ways." She said quietly. "Ways that will actually save this world."

. . . . . . . .

"Intention is key. If you find you cannot escape, you must set your entire mind to winning. There can be no possibility of losing if you are to survive. Imagine what winning will look like. Picture it clearly in your mind. Hold that image in your mind and don't deviate until you've reached it.

. . . . . . . . .

"Professor Snape? You wanted to see me?" Hermione stepped into the potions classroom and stopped short at the sight of the other occupant. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

For his part, Potter seemed equally surprised to see her. "Who are- Wait. You're Malfoy and Nott's friend, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione snapped, "I even have a name." She bristled at the thought of being denigrated to the position of 'friend' of anyone. If anything, Theo and Draco were her friends.

When Potter didn't even bother looking apologetic- honestly, he was looking pretty terrible to begin with- Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against one of the potion desks.

"Honestly, Potter. We've been in the same year for the past five years. We've had- oh, about eleven classes together even. And you don't even know my name. You really are frightfully dense, aren't you?"

"Exactly my conclusion," Professor Snape drawled, sweeping out of his office in a swirl of black cloak, "Which makes it even more unfortunate that the task of training you to defend your mind falls to me."

Potter, denseness aside, at least didn't look as confused as Hermione felt at this cryptic statement as he turned on the Potions Professor.

"What is she doing here?" He demanded, finger outstretched towards Hermione. "I thought Professor Dumbledore instructed you to teach-"

"Ms. Granger's presence," Professor Snape sneered, putting special emphasis on the syllables of Hermione's name, "is one of the conditions for my tutelage. Or do you really think that yours is the only mind that needs to be guarded from the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter?"

. . . . . .

"Granger! Wait up."

Hermione almost didn't pause at the call. She was already nursing a headache from their hour lesson in occulumency and was itching to down a potion and head to the library to begin collecting more information on the art. If this skill was as powerful as Snape said, there were so many people who needed to start practicing: Draco, Theo, Tracy-

"What do you want, Potter." She turned around as the Gryffindor ran up behind her.

"What did Snape mean? Why do you need to defend your mind?" He asked, panting a little from his quick jog. Hermione, frankly, had no idea. She had planned to investigate that thought in the privacy of her own mind later that night, but wasn't about to look the gift hippogriff in the mouth. Not that she'd ever say that to Potter.

"You really are dense, Potter." She said with a shrug and was satisfied to see the boy's face color.

"I'm not." He insisted, "Just 'cause I can't tell Slytherin's apart! It's not like you know anyone in Gryffindor?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, suddenly very pleased to play this game, "Really? You mean like Neville Longbottom, heir to the Longbottom name whose parents died in the past war and is constantly reminded of the fact by being forced to use his father's wand?

"Or maybe you mean Dean Thomas, whose mother was abandoned before he was born. There's some rumors going around that his father is none other than Phillip Landerer- whose a known seducer of Muggle women and has fled the country. But Thomas refuses to take the paternity potions and lay the rumor to res.

"Or perhaps," She stepped forward, pleased at how pale Potter had become, "You would like to talk about Ronald Billius Weasley. Your best and arguably only friend. Who abandoned you last year over his jealousy of your fame until you saved him from the lake. And whose father is now at St. Mungos's out of critical condition."

"How do-" Potter stammered, "How do you know that."

Anthony Goldstien hadn't received acceptable exam results on his last Transfiguration test so his father had sent him to help re-organize the potion supply cupboards at St. Mungo's during his Christmas break so the Ravenclaw had been on the scene when Arthur Weasley had been rushed in and privy to the resulting gossip about the wound. Anthony had told Padma who had told Susan who had told both Draco and Hannah who had both told her and soon after news had gotten around the Slytherin common room and it became a Thing because the Dark Lord was notorious for assassinations via snake bite and if he was targeting Purebloods- even blood traitors- well, what did that mean for everyone else?

Not that Hermione was going to explain all that to Potter though.

"People are important, Potter." She said, "Knowing about them matters."

. . . . . . . .

Later that night, HLater that night, Hermione lay in bed and wondered at her statement. Would she have realized the importance of other people if she hadn't been a Slytherin? Or would she have spent her whole life hiding behind books and intellect, without friends, without support, because she had never been forced to interact with them. Would she have turned out like Potter- barely cognizant of anyone outside her house and year?

. . . . . . .

The year worsened as it progressed. Every week saw more Educational Decrees and Professor Umbridge's presence seemed to penetrate even deeper into the school system. The Professors seemed to have collectively decided to ignore their Ministry Overlord by piling the fifth years with even more homework in preparation for their OWLS.

The Study Club became both a welcome distraction from studying and an exhausting addition to her already full schedule. The Occulumency classes a necessary but draining addition as well. More though, her interest in her class studies waned as she reached more and more for the recent histories and critiques of the Magical World. Was their world actually dying? Was there a way to save it?

Her grades slipped from O's to E's and Hermione found she couldn't care.

. . . . . . . .

"Inquisitional Squad?" Draco looked up from his Potions essay to see the sheet that Crabbe handed him. Hermione, also pleased to be distracted from listing out again what the different quantities of powdered wolfs bane did, looked up as well. "What is this?"

"Umbridge wants it." Crabbe said, looking pleased with himself for noticing something Draco hadn't. Granted, it didn't happen often, so the larger fifth year had every right to be pleased.

Draco took one more look at the sheet and then shook his head. He threw the paper down on the table and turned back to his homework.

"I can't," He said, "I just- between Quidditch and Prefect and Owls and the Clubs-" He trailed off and shook his head again. Hermione didn't blame him. Draco had a lot on his plate: the visible clubs and requirements and then, unspoken, the stress at home. His Aunt had apparently moved in with her sister and Narcissa's letters hinted at other, less welcome guests, also taking advantage of the Malfoy guest rooms and wards.

Hermione picked up the paper and frowned. An Inquisitional Squad. A group entirely loyal to Umbridge with extrajudicial powers. It would be stupid to join and risk the ire of the school as you became the public face of Umbridge's plans. It would be stupid not to join and risk being kept from interesting and important information.

"Vincent, what if you and Greg joined?" She asked and the larger boy perked up. This year, with Draco so busy with his extra work, the two cousins had been rather adrift. They'd studiously worked their way through the review lessons Hermione had set for them and had never missed a Study Club session, but they seemed lost. Maybe this would give them a sense of purpose.

Vincent looked at Draco hopefully who narrowed his eyes at Hermione and the shrugged.

"Sure," he said, "Have fun. Don't target any of my Muggleborns."

Hermione smiled at him and then leaned forward to pat Crabbe's hand. "And let us know if anything interesting happens with the squad, ok?"

. . . . . . . . .

The small investment paid off in less than two weeks.

. . . . . . . . .

"Granger," Crabbe sat down next to her in Charms. "Umbridge thinks that there are clubs going on under her nose. Clubs she hasn't approved."

Hermione's blood ran cold, but she disguised the alarm under re-arranging her review notes. It was fine. Umbridge had approved their club, even if she hadn't approved their actives. The charms she'd placed on all the participants held. She'd know if someone spoke about it.

"Thank you, Vincent." She said and gave him a quick smile, "We'll be careful."

. . . . . . .

"Granger." Professor Snape looked up from grading fourth year essays with a pensive look, "Professor Umbridge has requested my store of Veritiserum for Ministry Business."

Hermione stilled in preparing the Mugwort for tomorrows class. She had taken to arriving an hour early to the Occulumency lessons and helping Professor Snape prepare ingredients or correct first year papers as his free time was greatly constrained by the teaching the study club and dealing with Potter.

"She's looking for unauthorized clubs." Hermione said. This revelation panicked her less than Crabbes. "She'll probably start dosing random students, in our year." Snape may already know about Harry's attempt at a club from either gossip or Harry's own memories, but she wasn't going to toss the Gryffindor to the wolves. Yet.

For a moment, the two were silent except for the chop of Hermione's knife. Then she asked,

"Sir, are there any charms that can combat Veritiserum?"

The secrecy charms that were set by the signing of each person's name on her two sheets of paper would keep them anyone from willingly talking about the club. If they brought it up to an outsider, they'd be overcome with a babbling curse as well as intense nausea. But those spells could be broken under veritserum.

"Potions are not as easily broken as spells," Professor Snape admitted. "A skilled occulumens could work around the wording of the questions- giving half-truths and implications. And there are- deeper- magics that can prevent betrayal." The man's fingers unconsciously rested on his left forearm and Hermione bit back a shiver. The Dark Mark. She'd heard of it, seen pictures of it, and knew that it was burned into the soul as much as the skin. Soul Marks were said to have other properties- communication, loyalty, even- according to some texts- the transfer of magic between holders. It was a forbidden subject though.

Hermione sighed. If only magic was as useful as it first appeared.

"Don't worry, Sir." She said, resuming her chopping. "I have a plan."

"Very good, Ms. Granger."

. . . . . . . .

"Hannah," Hermione pulled the Hufflepuff into an abandoned classroom, "I have a favor to ask of you. It will be difficult, but I need your help."

. . . . . . . .

Umbridge, and the Inquisition squad, raided Potter's club. Most of the members fled with the Inquisition in lax pursuit.

Hermione had considered that to be the end of the situation: Umbridge suspected a secret club, so Umbridge had found a secret club. Everything could go back to normal.

Hermione had been wrong.

. . . . . . . .

"Hannah, this isn't your fault."

The Hufflepuff was crying again in the wake of Dumbledore's flight. Hermione patted her awkwardly on the back and sighed.

"Hannah, please. No one was supposed to get in trouble. The Inquisition Squad were told they had to let everyone escape." Not that Crabbe had been pleased with the suggestion, but he had agreed and even hexed Warrington who had been a little too eager to grab the younger Ravenclaw.

Hannah just clung to her tighter. "But without Dumbledore- who- who- who's going to protect us?"

"Hannah, do you really think you can't protect yourself? Or that you're alone?" When the girl looked up, Hermione smoothed down her hair, "Hannah. You protected everyone in our club. You're a hero."

"R-really?" the girl sniffed, but at least she had stopped crying.

"Really." Hermione insisted. "And Sna- well, we take care of our own. Ok?"

. . . . . . .

Per her request, Professor Snape was late to their next occulumency lesson.

"Granger- what the-"

"Poor form. No awareness. Shoddy defense skills. What were you even thinking, Potter!" She shouted as she threw his wand across the room. It was disappointly easy to disarm him. "I knew you were dumb, but I didn't suspect you were this brain dead. How you survived these past four years, I'll never know."

"Luck, mostly." Harry answered- proving his accurate sorting into Gryffindor. "What is this about?"

"A list of everyone's names, Potter? Labled Dumbeldore's Army?" Hermione fumed. "You couldn't have provoked the Minister's fears better if you had tried! Now that- woman- is in charge with no checks or balances- all because you don't have two brain cells to rub together."

Finally, the boy looked abashed.

"He left to protect me," Potter whispered, "We weren't an army. It was just a joke."

"Well, I hope you are laughing now." Hermione snapped, but lowered her wand from his throat, "Because you nearly ruined everything.

. . . . . . . .

Life had been bad under when Umbridge was the High Inquisitor. When she became Headmistress, it became worse.

Pranks abounded, chaos reigned, and Slytherins, regardless of whether they wore the silver "I" on their robes or not, were targeted as being supporters of the ministry regime.

Hermione would have laughed, but two third year Snakes had come to her begging for her help in turning their skin back to normal.

. . . . . . .

"Have you considered your future after Hogwarts, Ms. Granger?" Professor Snape asked her as she took a seat in his office. Career consultations in Slytherin were conducted for the ritual rather than the information. Most of her classmates would never have to work a day in their lives if they didn't want to. Daphne might ramble about becoming a healer and Draco might look up Professional Quidditch statistics, but neither of them would be forced to consider those by necessity.

"I have a list of Apprenticeships to apply to after my OWLS," Hermione said promptly. "There are a few on the continent that look promising."

The potions Professor was silent for a moment as he considered her, "Ms. Granger, while I have no doubt that between your grades and connections, you will find a suitable apprenticeship, I wonder if you have considered anything beyond your next three years. Politics perhaps."

"There has never been a –"

"Ms. Granger," Professor Snape interrupted, "There may well be a new system of government in place by the time you consider that your career. It may behoove you to . . . remain visible over these next few years."

Hermione pressed her lips together, but nodded. "I'll consider it."

"In that case, may I suggest a supplemental reading list?" Professor Snape rose and took two books off his shelf, "Be ready to discuss these after your owls."

. . . . . . . .

The march of time gave no regard to her personal struggles. The OWLS first loomed, then approached, and finally arrived.

Hermione finished them almost as an afterthought. The essay portions were obvious and the practical's were simple. Daphne might wail about forgetting the exact wording of Gramp's Laws, but Hermione didn't have the energy to rehash the tests with her class mates.

Naturally, it took less than a week for Hermione to realize she should have cherished the simplicity of post-test normalcy.

. . . .. . . . . . .

"I'm telling you- Voldemort has Sirius Black in the department of mysteries! Why aren't you doing anything?"

"Because it sounds like a trap Potter!" Hermione snapped as the Gryffindor paced the Potions room.

She had been discussing the nature of group magic with Professor Snape when Potter flew into the potions room in a panic, shouting about visions and Dark Lords and his godfather. From their occulumency lessons, Hermione had gathered that Potter shared some connection with the Dark Lord, no doubt from the trauma of his childhood, but she had only learned that this connection allowed Potter to spy on the Dark Lord in his dreams today. No wonder Snape had been instructed to teach him occulumency.

"Indeed it does," Professor Snape agreed, "Describe the room again, Potter."

Potter gave a garbled description of rows upon rows of shelves holding glowing orbs. As he spoke, Snape's frown grew darker.

"The Prophecy room." He muttered to himself. "Of course, he would want to lure Potter there."

"Why is that sir?" Hermione asked.

"The Ministry stores all official prophecies in the Department of Mysteries." Snape replied, "But they can only be accessed and understood by the participants. If I were to pick up a prophecy about you, Ms. Granger, all I would hear was gibberish."

"So there's a prophecy about Potter?" Hermione asked, "That the Dark Lord wants?" Harry stopped his pacing to watch as Professor Snape hesitated and then nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?" Harry demanded.

"Because it probably involves him too." Hermione frowned when Snape nodded again, "Why doesn't he get it himself - it would reveal his presence too early." Hermione answered her own question.

For the third time, Snape nodded. "Three points to Slytherin."

"But- Sirius-"

"How do you know he's really there? The Dark Lord could make you see anything he wanted." Hermione snapped, jumping off her desk to begin pacing herself. "What if Potter didn't go?"

"There would be other ways to acquire the prophecy," Snape said.

"But he's there- or at least, his associates are already there." Hermione continued, "What if we told the Ministry? They could be arrested."

"If they are already in the Ministry, then the ministry is either too incompetent or too corrupt to be of assistance," Snape's eyes gleamed as if he was laying out a particularly challenging riddle for her to solve. Hermione tapped her fingers on her arms.

"We could take the Study club." She said finally, ignoring Harry's look of incomprehension.

"As skilled as some of you are, you are not ready to fight well trained wizards and witches." Snape shook his head. Hermione sighed but had to admit that he was right. "Plus, even if you did capture them, where would they go? Azkaban is no longer secure."

"Then duel to kill." Hermione said, "Or- failing that. Snap the wands. Dose them with the draught of living death. Lock them in a secure room until a more permanent solution is reached."

"Kill-"Harry sputtered. "What are you-"

"There is going to be a war Potter." Hermione snapped, "Another one. You're not going to survive by relying on non-lethal spells."

"But-"

"What do you suggest we do, sir." She asked, "If we can't rely on the ministry and we can't rely on ourselves. Do we just let them wait there until they get bored?"

"Not quite Ms. Granger."

. . . . . . . .

Death Eaters found in the Department of Mysteries

Vigilante Group, Order of the Phoenix, Infiltrates the Ministry

. . . . . . . .

"I'm sorry about your Aunt." Hermione told Draco as she set down the paper. The boy shrugged as he buttered his toast.

"I never got a chance to meet her." He said. "I'm just glad that. . . she's who was caught."

A mysterious vigilante group appeared in the Ministry the previous night and engaged in a fire fight with a pack of Death Eaters. Though several Death Eaters escaped, many were captured by the mysterious group and were now sentenced to be kissed by the Dementors, including the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange.

Also on the list were other, familiar names: Flint, Crabbe, Bulstrode. Millie had read the paper and promptly departed from the Great Hall with a white face.

Arguments had broken out throughout the school about whether the Dark Lord had really returned, as Potter insisted, or if the Death Eaters were a rouge group acting without a leader. Whether the ministry was too harsh in their sentencing of the Death Eaters or wouldn't go through with their threats.

Hermione hoped they didn't personally. It would set an unfortunate precedent for the future trials.

. . . . . . .

"Granger?" Potter caught up with her as she walked to the green houses, "Do you think there's really going to be a war?"

"It depends." Hermione cast a mild privacy shield. "Based on the last war, I think it is inevitable. I'd like to limit the casualties though."

Potter nodded seriously and then looked a little sad. "I spoke to Dumbledore. Apparently there is a prophecy about me. I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort."

"So?" Hermione asked and Potter blanched. "Voldemort is the least of the problems."

"But-"

"The magical world is dying, Potter." Hermione sighed, "The Death Eaters are a symptom, not the cause. Remove them and nothing really- the anger and fear is still there. We need to treat the symptoms and the heart of the problem."

"Like with your Muggleborn club? And the cultural club last year?"

Hermione considered Potter with narrowed eyes. "You're learning, Potter. There might be hope for you yet."

. . . . . . . .

"Owls aren't enough." Hermione told her friends in the train, handing her last armlet to Crabbe. "I want you to have these. They are protean charmed so writing on one will appear on another one. Just write the initials of the person you want to reach and then your message. They'll grow warm if you get a message."

Daphne turned it over in her hands, "They're not very stylish."

"They're a prototype," Hermione rolled her eyes, "There's other spells I want to add eventually- tracking charms, health monitoring charms. But right now, I want a way for us to communicate before the training camp."

The study group had decided with near unanimous agreement to meet for a few weeks during their summer break to continue their training. Daphne had volunteered one of the more isolated Greengrass holdings and others had quickly volunteered expanding tents or other magical accommodation. They had also agreed to expand the club to include a few more choice members.

"They're brilliant." Theo said quickly, fitting it over his arm. It shrunk until it was secure around his wrist. The others followed suit. "I wonder if you could add a shielding charm to them. Like magical armor?"

"I think I was reading about a way to stack charms," Pansy said, "Morag found a reference in an old book. I'll talk to her about building up the protections on these."

"Oh, speaking of protections," Daphne turned to Hermione, "I spoke to Mumsie and she agreed to show you where the ward stones are on the property so you can key them to you for the summer. That should ensure there are no unwanted appearances."

"Good." Tracy nodded, "I've been working on a list of spells we need to learn, and it's better if people don't know about some of them."

Hermione leaned back in her seat, letting the conversation pass around her. No matter what happened, if they all stuck together, everything would be alright.

A/N: And here I'm afraid I have to pause this story for a little. The plot has deviated too far from the original books and requires me to devise my own structure now. Also, the story has become complex enough that it needs longer, more thoughtful chapters. So please consider this as a rough draft for a future, longer story.

Thank you all so much for your follows, favs, and reviews. If you have any ideas of what you'd like to see in future chapters, let me know. Bouncing ideas off people builds a lot of creativity for me!


	12. Summer Letters V

Summer Letters

Dear Severus,

Try to put yourself in my shoes and imagine my surprise at learning that you- who has always cherished his solitary, child-free summers- was going to be leading an extra course of studies for Hogwarts Students.

I was completely baffled when Draco mentioned he'd be leaving over breakfast. Baffled, but delighted. I've always felt that despite the assigned summer readings, Draco has always managed to forget a fair amount of his studies during his break. This seems like the perfect solution to allow him to continue seeing his friends and maintain his academic rigor.

And, because I am a prying mother, will the young Ms. Granger be there as well? Draco seemed to indicate that she was instrumental in setting up the occasion. It does seem like her name is popping up quite a bit these days- always in the most interesting circumstances.

Your friend,

Narcissa

. . . . . . . .

Isabella Darling,

I know that as soon as you read this letter, you will laugh on remembrance of all the disagreements we've had over the past years regarding the Prophecy of Nimue. No doubt you will quote my own words back to me: divination is a sham. Waiting for an Arthurian savior of the wizarding race is pointless. And if it wasn't, hadn't that Muggleborn already appeared forty years ago?

Laugh all you like but indulge me regardless. Certain events have made me reconsider my stance on the Prophecy and I find myself eager to hear more of your theories. Haven't you said that the astrological readings are wrong and the true rise of Venus in the cupbearer dawned six years ago? And that certain translations beg a more involved understanding?

I beg you, alleviate my curiosity over tea this week. We can even go to that frilly monstrosity masquerading as a French café that you love so much.

Yours ever,

Narcissa

. . . . . . . . .

Dear Patricia,

How could I not but agree with you that this is sans doubt a joyous day for all of us true blooded magicals? The ministry has shown its complete incompetence once again. Imagine, having seven Death Eaters literally handed to you- trussed up as falcons- and to fail to imprison even one of them. Even the ingenious idea of subduing them with the Draught of Living Death appeared too much for the fools- they could not manage the redosing and thus lost complete control. Pathetic.

Naturally, I am delighted to be reunited with my sister. Again. I simply hope that she will remain with me for a trifle longer this time.

Per your original question though, yes, I have agreed to send Draco to his summer excursion with his classmates a little early. I am glad to hear that Pansy will be joining him as well. They have become such a close-knit group of friends and so studious. Did you know that Granger had them all master the Duram Protectra shield? I'm not sure I could cast that.

And Draco has mentioned offhandedly his friendships with Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even some of the younger Gryffindor boys. Do you remember our time at school? The other houses would barely give us the time of day! But under Granger's leadership, Slytherin is once more becoming accepted, even respected.

It reminds me, just a little, of the thirteenth line of Nimue's prophecy- do you remember? _And under her hand, the four shall be one/ the one, stronger than the four, shall be birthed anew_

Interesting, isn't it?

Lady Malfoy

. . . . . . . .

Dominic,

Forgive a worried mother's concern, but have you heard word from our little group of intrepid children?

There are whispers on the wind of your name and a visit.

I'll do my best to ensure this is but a whisper, but please take the appropriate care to protect your grounds.

Narcissa

. . . . . . .

Lucius Abaraxas Malfoy,

Return home immediately.

If you have been where I think you've been, I will enforce the Black Family Codicil.

Your Wife

. . . . . . . .

Mrs. Goyle,

You have my deepest condolences on the passing of your son Gregory. From the reports after the attack, I have heard that he fought bravely and powerful and, in the end, sacrificed himself to save a fellow Slytherin.

I know posthumous praise is little consolation, he did die a hero and a wizard. I have no doubt he will be accepted back to Avalon with open arms as the Prophecy of Nimune foretold: _And with his death, the faithful paved the way to a greater future/ the first in the long line towards newborn Avalon_

If you need anything, please do not hesitate to come to me,

Narcissa

. . . . . . .

Severus,

There are times when I swear by Merlin you should have been sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. After everything that you have suffered, you are insisting on remaining at Hogwarts. As your friend, I am devastated and worried. As a mother, I am grateful that you will remain to watch over our children. I understand that it is only thanks to you and your teaching, that we did not lose our entire next generation to the attack.

Severus- I know that you are proud of them, but please remember they are only children. I wanted Draco to have the childhood we did not- free from the polarizing terror of war. Choosing between the lesser of two evils is no way to grow.

Still, I trust you. And, per your request, will put all my intention and will towards bringing the possibility of a new future to light. One where we don't have to choose between evil and death.

I do not know when we will meet again, but take care of yourself, Severus. Put all your Slytherin cunning to good use.

Narcissa

P.S- you may find these lines of the Prophecy interesting: _And she shall be protected by first the night and then the old day/ Watched over by the stars to build a new dawn_

. . . . . . .

My most darling Draco,

Though I know my plea will fall on deaf ears, please consider coming to France with your father and I. The same ailment that befell your father will, I fear, fall upon you as well if you are not careful. Distance can mitigate the chances.

But, at the same time, I understand why you must stay. This past summer, you grew from a child to a man and I cannot say I am not proud of who you have and will continue, to become.

There are forces much larger than us mere mortals at play and it is right that you be in the center of them.

Know that my love for you is vaster than the oceans,

Your mother

A/N:

Between a lovely burst of inspiration and some new brainstorming techniques- I believe I have most of year six nailed down. It will begin to be a strong divergence from cannon, so let's see how it all holds together.

As always, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or fav. Your support is my motivation to see this story to completion!

A/N 2:

Book 5 is the first book where Hermione plays an actual, plot essential role in the Harry Potter books. She is the one who urges Harry to start the DA and organizes the interview for the Quibbler. I rather undercut her role in this story by having Harry start his DA on his own- but it is a much smaller group this time. There is also no interview so Harry doesn't have the legitimacy it grants him in the eyes of the student population.

Since Harry and Hermione have now 'officially' met up, I'll wrap up my plot analysis with book 5. Hopefully, it's clear that Harry's life is taking a very different route.


	13. Sixth Year pt 1

Year six pt 1

How do you mourn when half your soul is gone?

Hermione lowered her head to her hands and felt the weight of her skull. Their carriage had always felt so cramped in the past. What wouldn't she give to feel the extra press of Millie there now? Or Blaise who had become suspiciously silent ever since his mother had called him back to Italy? Or Greg who-

Tears welled again and Hermione clenched her teeth until her jaw shook.

A cool, still pool. Just imagine a bottomless pool of water- still as glass. Let the emotions slide beneath the surface, let the surface remain untroubled-

"Um- Ms. Granger-"

The carriage door opened. Again.

Beside her Theo rose. His fist tighter around his wand and Hermioe briefly closed her eyes against the memory of the dark spells that wand had unleashed. Darker than any she had taught or suspected he'd know. But when Tracy had fallen-

"Theo," She said softly and the boy paused, looked back at her and took his seat again. Hermione took a breath to compose her expression into a smile before raising her head. A younger student, a Hufflepuff by the yellow and black scarf around her neck, fidgeted at their door, but brightened as she looked at her. In the hallway a pair of other tow-headed students waited.

"Um- I was- well, we were wondering- if-um- well, you- would offer more Defense classes this year?" The girl squeaked.

"Hogwarts will be offering advanced defense and dueling skills," Pansy snapped from her corner before Hermione could answer. The young Hufflepuff flinched back. "Your Head of House will give you notice of the signup sheet after the first week."

Perhaps Pansy hadn't meant to be so biting, but after the first half dozen visitors interrupting their attempts at conversation, her patience was growing thin. Though who could blame her? Each of them had been exhausted before they boarded the train. Each of them wore the scars of their first, real, battle in their own ways- though the only manifestation of the Parkinson girl's was the new ring on her finger and the tight line of her shoulders that had not relaxed since her brother had apperated them both away from the battle.

"But she will be there," Daphne added with a smile, "We all will."

"Oh- well- that's- I mean that's great." The Hufflepuff giggled. "I mean- Ernie- Ernie McMillon? He's our cousin. And he- well- he said that he would be dead if it wasn't for what you did- taught- and that- well- we all need to go to your classes and do what ever you need. So- so we will." She added forcefully with the absolute truthfulness that Hufflepuff seemed to instill.

"Thank you." Hermione said after a brief moment as the girl's name finally clicked into place, "I know you will all do the McMillon family proud, Eloise. Please let Ernie know our thoughts are with him."

The Hufflepuff beamed at the acknowledgment and, after promising to write to Ernie right then, raised her wand and brought it across her body. Hermione hesitated and then mirrored the gesture- bringing her right fist to her left shoulder. With one more wave, Eloise ran off with her siblings.

Hermione felt exhausted and stunned by the salute. It had started as a simple shibboleth to weed out anyone using Polyjuice. A simple suggestion from Susan Bones who proved to be far more paranoid than Hermione had ever been. The study group had taken up the salute with alacrity until it became the universal gesture for agreement, greeting, farewells, and anything in between. Ernie had probably taught his cousin.

Ernie.

As the door clicked shut, Hermione collapsed back into her seat. That Hufflepuff, at least, had survived Dolohov's curse. A stasis spell had slowed the flesh-eating rot until he was able to be transported to St. Mungo's. When he finally woke up, McMillon was so adamant to return to Hogwarts that he almost splinched himself trying to escape from the Healing Ward. Hermione had received a letter not long after from his desperate mother begging her to come and talk some sense into her son since she was the only person he'd listen to now.

How could Hermione have refused? She arrived and asked the fever-flushed Hufflepuff for a favor- could he please research the attitudes of the traditionally 'Light' houses towards Muggleborns and the state of the world? She needed someone with his connections and who was not distracted with school to help. So, with reluctance, Ernie agreed to send the letters and, in the meantime, rest and heal. Hermione wished she could have forgotten the look on his parents' faces when she left.

"Hermione?" Daphne placed a hand on Hermione's and gave her a quick squeeze, "Isn't it time for the Prefects to patrol the train?"

"What's the point?" Pansy sneered, "Half the train has already shown up."

"Exactly." Daphne gave her a pointed look and then silently inclined her head towards where Tracy was huddled in the other corner, hood over her head and face pressed against the window. A spasm of guilt crossed over Pansy's face and she settled back in a tense sprawl.

"I'll manage anyone else who comes through here," Daphne told her softly and Hermione gave her hand a grateful squeeze back and forced herself to her feet.

"Draco?" She asked the pale boy. It took a moment for Malfoy to raise his head and when he did, Hermione almost wished she could leave him here. Instead, she held out her hand. "Let's go."

. . . . . . . . .

"Hermione- uh, Malfoy?"

For the first year, Draco hadn't insisted on seeking out the Boy Who Lived and Hermione had hoped to make it through the train without encountering Potter. But snakes were never so lucky. Potter had burst out the carriage as if he had been waiting for them.

"I was going to come and look for you if I-" Potter started, but stopped when Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. He blushed, ducked his head, then held out his hand- towards Draco rather than Hermione. When he looked up, his eyes were clear and hard.

"Malfoy, I'm so sorry to hear about your loss."

A year ago, Draco probably would have sneered and dropped some scathing remark worthy of their six year rivalry. But those years felt very far away, almost as if they belong to another person. Today, Draco only nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Thank you."

"Yeah. Um- Look," Potter shoved his hand closer, "I know I buggered things up when we first met. I'm sorry about that. Do you- do you want to start fresh? The name's Potter, Harry Potter."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and couldn't help but crack her first glimmer of a smile in weeks. It was easy to forget that Potter grew up Muggle. Draco considered the hand for a moment and then reached out his own.

"Look at you learning, Potter." Hermione said as the two boys shook hands.

. . . . . . . .

There was an electric energy in the Great Hall that Hermione hadn't felt before. A restless, excitement that flowed through the children as they crowded to their respective tables. Hermione lost count of how many students- part of the club or not- saluted her as she moved to the Slytherin Table.

She favored some with a distant nod, ignored the rest, and hoped the commotion would calm down once classes began. Draco was less tolerant.

"Leave it-" Hermione snapped, hauling him back down to the bench at their table. "It's not worth a fight." Draco glared, tensed, but finally slumped back- lips pressed in a grim line.

"They're treating us like heroes." He said.

Hermione sighed, "They think we are."

. . . . . . . . .

"They were calling Muggles stupid, Hermione." Theo protested over the vat of tuberworm livers that was supposed to serve as his detention. "Saying they were worse than animals and needed to be culled. When they've never even met a Muggle-"

"Then introduce them." Hermione said, hopping up on one of the potions tables. "Most of these kids have never realized they could leave the Wizarding world, much less interact in the Muggle one. Remember how you were before you started coming home with me?"

Theo hung his head and fished another liver out of the bucket. It fell on the table with a wet slap. "It's different," He insisted. "I was prejudiced. They're furious. Hateful. I wouldn't trust them to meet a muggle. Much less listen to one."

"Then show them they don't have a choice," Hermione tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk, "Do you remember Draco's face when we took him to the Museum of Science World War II exhibit."

For the first time, Theo paused in his furious de-livering and cracked a smile. "He was so shocked. Especially when he discovered what a gun was. And Mu – Ms. Granger-"

"Mum." Hermione corrected automatically with a soft kick to his knee, "She's asked you to call her Mum for years. You're the son she never had, Theo."

A faint blush flared on Theo's pale cheeks as he glanced down at his slimy hands.

"Mu-," He repeated in a pained voice, "How excited Ms. Granger was when he started asking all those questions about the army and troop movements and bombs."

"And have you heard him say anything against Muggle since?"

Theo scowled in defeat, deveined the liver angrily and threw it into the jar. "What are you doing here anyways? No one would dare to give you a detention."

"I came to check on you, idiot." Hermione rolled her eyes and hopped off the table. "You took on five Slytherins-"

"Pathetic," Theo sneered, "Terrible form. No sense of tactics."

"And I wanted to make sure you're ok. Clearly, you are." Hermione considered him tapping her fingers against the desk. Then she gave in to the question that was haunting her since she first heard of the fight. "Theo, was Millie making those comments too?"

"Millie?" Theo paused in his chopping to consider, "No. She was there, but she wasn't saying anything. And she left as soon as I confronted them."

Hermione sighed and nodded her thanks as she headed towards the door. But she paused on the threshold.

"Theo?" She waited until he looked up, "Thanks for – well, thanks for defending Muggles."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"So what's next?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione glanced up to see the cluster of students- some from the study club, some from the original cultural exchange club, and others she didn't recognize. Morag pushed forward and planted her hands on the library table, ignoring Madame Pince's glare.

"What are you going to teach us next?"

Hermione placed a bookmark into her book and turned it upside down on the table. "The defense aspects of the study club are being replaced by a DADA elective that's open for all students. I've reviewed the curriculum with Professor Snape and it's very good."

"Yes- but-" Morag broke off with a huff and straightened. With great solemnity, she brought her right hand across her chest and then slashed down to her side. Hermione fought back a flinch. "What's next?"

Hermione hesitated- her hands aching as she clutched the book, wishing it could be the shield she had used when she was younger. This- she hadn't thought this far in advanced. This was supposed to be a break year- a breather between the OWLS and NEWTS. She wanted a break- now more than ever.

"Whatever you want." She said, pulling her papers towards her and shoving them into her bag. "Study your classes, take the Defense elective. Live a happy life."

The students looked between themselves, some dissatisfied, others disbelieving. Finally Morag, who was apparently their spokesperson leaned forward again.

"What about you. What are you going to be doing?"

"Independent research," Hermione said, shouldering her bag and rising, "That's all I can say right now."

She fled the library, before anyone could make another request, already mapping a new, more secret, location to continue her research.

. . . . . . . . .

"Your absence was noted at the first Defense Elective, Ms. Granger."

Hermione briefly squeezed her eyes shut and then turned around to face her Head of House with an impassive face. It was foolish to hope he wouldn't pick out the signs of exhaustion that even her expert make up and glamor skills couldn't hide, but she wouldn't make it easy for him.

"It was intentional, sir," She lied, "I want the club to exist on its own merits, not as a fan club for me or my Slytherins."

Professor Snape gave her a long, searching stare and she felt the barest flicker of legimency on the corners of her consciousness. But long hours in hospital waiting rooms that summer had given her ample time to perfect her shields. Finally, the man relented.

"Ms. Granger, if you are having . . . personal concerns. There is still time to tell me." Professor Snape said. Hermione dropped her gaze to his left arm and nodded politely.

. . . . . . . . .

"Hermione, Malfoy." Potter greeted them as had become his habit. Hermione waved and Malfoy managed a subtle jerk of his chin in acknowledgment as they took their seats.

"I don't like it." Weasley whispered to Potter as they dug out their potions books. "They're Snakes, Harry. They could be Death Eater's for all you know."

Maybe the red head had meant to be quiet. Or never learned to properly whisper. Or actually intended for his last sentence to be loud enough to echo through the room. Whatever the reason, Draco heard and stiffened.

"How do we know you're not, Weasley." Hermione said quickly, before Draco could draw his wand. He had already hexed two Gryffindors who had whispered something similar and was itching for a fight.

The boy sputtered, his ears going almost as red as his hair, "What- I- I can't be a Death Eater, are you mad?"

"You're a pureblood," Hermione replied. "And a Blood Traitor. And have a history of betraying your friends when they need you. What's to say you haven't already done so?"

The Weasley's face went a satisfying shade of scarlet. But before he could lunge for his wand, Potter grabbed his hand.

"Ron. I know you wouldn't do that, but I don't think they would either." He shouted and, when Ron finally pulled free added, "We can prove it. Look." He pulled up his sleeve to show a pale, bare forearm and glanced at Hermione hopefully. The two Slytherins shared a look but pulled up their own left sleeves as well. Finally, under three pairs of eyes, Weasley relented and shoved his sleeve half up his arm.

The four of them stared down at the four, blank forearms and Potter smiled. "See? No one's a Death Eat-"

"What's that?" Draco interrupted, pointing at the white markings on Hermione's arm. She sighed and let her sleeve fall back over her arm.

"Remnants of a ritual," She lied, giving Draco the hand sign for 'later,' "That didn't work out."

. . . . . . . . . . .

"No one." Tracy snapped the newspaper shut and, when Daphne looked up from La Monde Magie and nodded in agreement, the Slytherin table let out a collective sigh of relief. Today at least, no one they knew had died.

Across the Great Hall, a similar scene was being played out over and over again at each table as students scoured the newspapers for any mention of a dead, or worse missing, family member. Draco poured himself another cup of coffee with shaking hands and passed the pot to Hermione, who ignored him from behind her pile of mail.

"No mention of my parents?" He asked Daphne hopefully, but the girl only shook her brown curls as she flipped to the business section of the French magical newspaper.

"Your mother has too much sense to catch notice of the reporters," She said, ignoring the basket of rolls Vince passed to her. "Damn- I knew I should have invested in the Owl market. It's still going up."

"I'm hardly surprised," Theo said darkly reaching past Hermione as she ignored the coffee pot, "Everyone has orders for the Daily Prophet now and parents are wanting daily updates on their children. Plus, after the attack on the MacDougal Roosts, there won't be a new supply of owlets for at least two years- unless we import them."

"Typical Pureblood," Tracy snarled from behind the paper, "A bloody war is brewing and you're looking for how to profit from it. What's that Hermione?" She asked suddenly as Hermione slipped a letter into her pocket.

"More junk," Hermione signed. "Three more interview requests. Someone accusing me of leading the youth astray. Five new people praising me for being a guiding light. Another request that I confirm that I'm the recipient of some prophecy. Oh- and I may have a child named after me."

She passed the letter with the accompanying picture of the newborn around the table as a distraction.

. . . . . . . . . .

"You came." Millicent Bulstrode stepped out of the shadows of the abandoned classroom as Hermione carefully shut and locked the door behind her.

"I got your letter," She said, "It's the first time you reached out to me in over a year. Of course, I came."

"This could be an ambush." Millicent insisted, "A trap. I could have lured you here to attack you or-" Her voice trailed off with waver very unlike her normal steady tones. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Unlikely. We live in the same dorm and have a number of the same classes. Luring me out here to – I'm not even sure what you think you could do to me - seems unnecessarily complicated and you have always preferred the direct method. So, I think you've summoned me here to ask for my help."

Under Hermione's little speech, Millie had wilted until she finally collapsed onto a desk, sending up a cloud of dust as she bent her head.

"You're right," she said, voice heavy and muffled, "As always. I need-" Rather than finish her sentence, she rolled up her left sleeve and exposed it to the pale moonlight. Hermione took a step forward and gasped. On Millicent's broad forearm, a Dark Mark swam and wavered on her skin. Now, it looked steady and in the next moment it shivered, faded, and reappeared.

"Oh Millie. You didn't…."

"I didn't have a choice!" Millie's hiss was raw, "He threatened to kill Bernie- she's only five. She doesn't even know what's going on. I never wanted this- but I couldn't let my sister- just because I didn't-" She broke off with a sob.

Hermione took her arm and gently brushed her fingers over the mark. "You didn't swear with your full heart, did you?" She asked, "Your soul is resisting it so it won't stick. The Dark Lord should know better. Why did he do this?"

Millicent was watching her with a horrified expression, but under Hermione's sharp glance, answered. "He needed to, he said. Needed to keep watch over me. In order to make sure, I actually did it- but I don't know how! And if I don't, he'll kill everyone! Mother, Father, Bernadette- everyone-"

"What do you need to do?" Hermione asked, eyes still fixed on the Dark Mark. As Millicent gave in to her fear, the mark darkened and steadied.

Millicent tried to bite back a sob, "Find a way to let him in. Let the Dark Lord into Hogwarts."

"Ah," Hermione nodded in understanding and let Millicent's arm drop, "So what exactly do you want me to do?"

Millicent looked at her desperately, "I don't know. Fix it. Stop him. Help me? It hurts so bad. I can barely sleep."

There were options, Hermione acknowledged. She could refuse- cite the past year of betrayal as a reason. Refuse to engage with the Dark Lord directly. Report her fellow snake to Dumbledore or the Auroers. But looking down at Millie's terrified, pleading eyes, Hermione realized she didn't really have a choice.

She pulled out her wand. "Millie, do you trust me?"

After all, Snakes take care of their own.

. . . . . . . .

"Hey Hermione?"

Hermione had taken to waiting a few extra minutes after classes to avoid the crush of students and whispers that graced the Hallways. Unfortunately, Potter was apparently patient enough to wait for her after Transfiguration. She nodded to him, but right now, she really didn't have the energy to talk. Her arm itched. She felt a different pulse than her own echoing through her bones.

"I had a dream last night," Potter leaned in and lowered his voice, "About Voldemort. He was angry- very angry about something that happened yesterday."

Hermione glared at him, "You're supposed to be practicing your occulumency. So you don't-"

"I know, I know-" Harry held up his hands placatingly. "I am practicing, but this one broke through. Plus considering how you look-"

"Harry-" Hermione hissed.

"- I just wanted to make sure everything is ok." He finished. "If you're ok."

"I'm fine." Hermione snapped, swinging her bag up further on her shoulder. "I know better than to do anything to attract the Dark Lord's attention and you should know better than to ever bring attention to a woman's appearance!"

She strode off down the hallway, before Potter could pry further. Her arm ached and she wanted to sleep.

. . . . . . . .

"Hermione!" Pansy tore into the Slytherin common room where Hermione was writing an essay on human to human transfiguration while half dozing in front of the fire. These days, any time she entered the common room, a chair right next to the fireplace opened up like magic.

"Pansy- what is it?" Hermione was on her feet, essay forgotten at the stark fear in Pansy's voice. She hadn't heard tones like that since last summer- at the camp-

"It's Draco-" Pansy spit out, grabbing Hermione's sleeve and hauling her towards the door, "-we were at Quidditch. He screamed- fell from his broom. They took him to the hospital room- but- Oh, just run faster!"

. . . . . . .

"Draco-"

They burst in on a strange tableau: Professor Snape and Dumbledore stood on one side of the bed while the disembodied head of Narcissa Malfoy floated in the fireplace opposite. Between them, Draco lay on a bed, his screams silenced but his pain etched on his face as he tore at his left forearm.

"Hermione!" Relief momentarily replaced the anguish on Lady Malfoy's face, "You've come. You must save him."

"I-" Hermione turned to Pansy and then the Professors, "What is going on-"

"It's the Dark Mark-" Professor Dumbledore explained quietly, "It appears that since Voldemort believes Lucius has defected, the Malfoy mark is being past to the next in kin."

Hermione's heart sank and bile flooded her mouth as she stepped closer to the bed and stared down at Draco's arm. Faintly, on the pale skin, a mark was appearing. It swam and fought- harder than Millie's had- but with each passing moment it appeared stronger and darker. The flesh around the mark was marred with scratches and bled from where Draco had attempted to tear off his own skin. Now, he was restrained and silent. Too far into the fear and pain to make sense.

"It's true-" Narcissa confirmed, her face twisted in helpless rage. "Lucius collapsed. I took him to the Medi-wizards, but when I noticed his mark had faded, I called as soon- If I had known leaving would expose Draco to this-"

She broke off with a sob and turned towards Hermione, desperation clear even through the flames. "Hermione. I beg you. Please save him. I know you have the power."

"I-" Hermione started again and then glanced at Professor Snape. She did- possibly- have a way to save him. But with so many witnesses? In front of Professor Dumbledore? But her Professor's expression remained blank as stone. Whatever choice she made, it had to come from her.

Draco arched again on the bed- mouth open in a soundless scream of agony and Hermione realized it was never really a choice.

"Draco?" She bent over her friend, "Do you trust me?"

. . . . . . .

"Hermione?"

Hermione glanced up to see Theo standing before her and covered her face as she laughed weakly to herself. "Theo, please. If you love me at all, don't ask."

It had been an impossible dream to hope that her marking of Draco would remain a secret. Not with so many witnesses. Not when Draco's fall and Hermione's departure had been so public. She should have known someone would find her, even in her favorite forgotten nook of the castle. There were worse people than Theo who could have found her.

"I have to, Hermione." Theo stepped forward and began rolling up his left sleeve. "I'm a Nott. My father was a Death Eater. How long before the Dark Lord decides to call in his debt? I would rather die than be forced to hurt Muggles like M- like Mum."

"That's cruel, Theodore." Hermione laughed as she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Even still, tears leaked out. "Using her against me."

"What other choice do I have?" He demanded, "I won't join the Dark Lord. Dumbledore won't take a Slytherin. I have nowhere to run. Give me any other alternative and I'll do it, Hermione!"

There wasn't another one, she acknowledge distantly. No other choice for the young heir short of throwing himself off the Astronomy tower right now.

Part of her, the young part that still believed in fairness and justice, stamped her foot and cried out for Theo to think of her- think of what a burden these markings put on her shoulders. But she was too old for such tantrums now- even with the boy she viewed as a brother.

He'd never really be a brother, she thought distantly as she rose to her feet. There would always be a distance between them now.

"Fine," She whispered, "But you must stand up. I refuse to mark anyone who knees before me."

Theo rose, arm still outstretched at her. Skin pale like an accusation. Hermione took his wrist and pressed her wand against his forearm. Why was it that the deepest magic was the simplest?

"Do you trust me, Theo?"

"Always."

. . . . . . . . . .

When she saw Vincent look up from his seat in the common room, Hermione merely gestured for him to follow her into one of the empty study rooms. When he shoved his arm forward in silent demand, Hermione pulled out her wand. He had lost too much, was in too much danger, and was too unwilling to leave Draco behind.

Hermione gave him a small smile as she raised her wand, "Do you trust me Vince?"

His sharp nod was all she needed.

. . . . . . . .

"Can it wait?" Hermione asked as Daphne and Pansy pulled her into the 6th year girl's bathroom and shut the door, "Until the morning?"

"Nope!" Pansy responded, removing her sleeve, "Parkinson, remember? With a father and brother dumb enough to pledge themselves to the Dark Lord? I'm not taking any chances."

"But-" Hermione couldn't argue with Pansy's logic so she turned to Daphne in desperation, "Your family is neutral- no one has taken the Dark Mark. You don't need-"

"Married to a Death Eater," Daphne laughed, holding up her hand with the ring, "Well, engaged. But better not risk it right? Plus, we were your first friends. You should have marked us first."

Hermione frowned as she grabbed Pansy's arm and jabbed her wand into the toned flesh. "You are both impossible and I will forever remind you that it was your idea- not mine- to Marked in a bathroom. Now do you trust me?"

. . . . . . . . .

"Are you next?" Hermione demanded as she closed the bathroom door behind her and saw Tracy standing in their dorm with a wand raised. In the dim light, it was almost possible to overlook the blistered scar that marred half the girl's face.

"Are you giving people a choice?" Tracy demanded.

"Of- of course. It's for their protection- not for-"

"Then fuck off with it." Tracy spat. "If you think I would ever submit to some- what are you doing? For Nimune's sake- don't cry Hermione-"

Hermione just wrapped her arms tighter around her friend, "Thank you- thank you- thank you-"

. . . . . . . .

"Ms. Granger do you think-" Her Head of House broke off with an expression so blank it was a naked confession. Hermione glanced at the skull and snake on the forearm- dark, black and unwavering. A true soul mark taken with the purest intention.

"I- I'm sor-"

"Don't ever mention it." Her Professor drew down his sleeve with an impatient jerk- his face unyielding under her gaze. "The Headmaster wishes to speak to you."

"Now?" Hermione asked. Snape only nodded. For a moment, he looked almost as exhausted as she felt.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Lemon drop, Ms. Granger?" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled from behind his glasses as he offered her the small glass bowl of yellow candy. Hermione wondered briefly if the situation would be less surreal with more sleep. She doubted it.

"No thank you, sir," She said stiffly. Half a dozen questions flicked through her head followed quickly by half a dozen scathing remarks. Hermione pressed her lips together and avoided his twinkling gaze.

"You've accomplished quite a bit in the past twenty four hours,"

"That is very kind of you to say, sir." Hermione demurred, keeping her gaze fixed on the corner of his table where a small, silver teapot spun gently in midair.

"In light of the recent developments, I have a proposition for you," the Professor continued, popping a sour candy into his own mouth, "I was wondering if you'd like to join a little study group I've created for Mr. Potter and myself."

"Sir?" Despite herself, Hermione raised her eyes in confusion. "What are you studying?"

"A subject of particular interest to you, I believe." The joviality disappeared from the old man's face as he leaned forward, "I suppose you may call it the rise and fall of Voldemort's power."

Hermione bit the tip of her tongue to keep from smiling, "I'd be honored to join sir."

. . . . . . .

A/N: Hello and welcome back! We are now officially off the beaten track so updates may be slower as I try to come up with new material for the Voldemort study sessions and now bore you all with a Horocrux rehash.

As always, your follows, favs, and especially reviews make me crazy happy.

3/19- Edited for continuity thanks to a message from Pecan Crisp


	14. Sixth Year: Christmas Interlude pt 1

Year 6- Christmas Interlude

"I am afraid," Professor Snape said as he held out a hand to stop the 6th year Slytherins, "That your request to return home for Christmas has been denied."

"What!" Draco said. All around them sleepy students stood in line with their luggage, waiting for their turn to floo home for the holidays. The traditional Christmas train ride back to London was deemed too much a threat so Hogwarts had allowed a temporary, one-way floo connection to allow students to return home to their families.

Even then, the threat was still great and red-cloaked Aurors prowled the hallways in preparation for an attack. At Draco's shout, several turned their heads to glare at the Slytherins. Pansy elbowed Draco and scowled. The last thing they needed was Ministry attention.

"But sir," Daphne shoved herself forward, "We need to go home. There are certain solstice rituals I am required to be part of for the Greengrass line."

Professor Snape remained unphased, "It is the Headmaster's belief that you would all be safer at Hogwarts than your own homes." Left unsaid was how unwelcome most of them would be in their own homes right now.

Still, they had made plans for the holiday and Hermione didn't want to see their break go to waste. She stepped forward.

"I would like to speak to the Headmaster," She said. Professor Snape nodded.

"He rather thought you might. The password to his office is Beetle Clusters."

. . . . . . . . .

"I'm sure you understand the concern, Ms. Granger."

Even in the early hours of the morning, Professor Dumbledore looked as refreshed and twinkling as ever. He had chosen a festive red and green robe that violated every Pureblood fashion convention and began to give Hermione a headache.

"I would prefer for you to explain, sir," Hermione said and clutched her cup of tea protectively. She had turned down the offer of candy and shortbread, but couldn't say no to a cup of tea so soon after rising.

Professor Dumbledore merely nodded and leaned back in his chair. "It's a matter of safety. Some of your class, such as Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy, have no home or family in the country to return to. Others, such as Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Crabbe, and Ms. Bulstrode, would be quite in danger should they return to their families. Finally, for Ms. Davis and yourself, the Muggle world is simply impossible to monitor fully and ensure your protection. Hogwarts is much safer."

"If that is the case, sir, why did you allow Rowle to return home?" She asked, thinking of the hulking fourth year who had as good as declared his intentions to follow in his Death Eater of an uncle's footsteps. He had been one of the victims of Theo's curses earlier in the year. "Or prevent Hannah Abbott from returning when it is clear that the Abbotts are targets."

The Pet Emporium where Hannah's mother worked had recently been featured in the Daily Prophet after a suspicious package had put everyone into a coma. The Healers were able to reverse the condition through a modified antidote of the Draught of Living Death, but it had been touch and go for a while. Still, Hannah had been adamant to return to her family and teach them what she had learned this past year at the Defense club.

"Or refuse to let Daphne-" Hermione cut herself off as the Headmaster simply raised his eyebrows silently. Hermione's shoulder sank.

Rowle and Hannah hadn't accepted her Mark. Daphne had. Even if her Snakes had been from the blandest, most inconsequential of families, they would have still been targets. As she sat quietly, Professor Dumbledore rose and picked up the teapot.

"I'm afraid to say Ms. Granger, but the choices of you and your friends these past few months have put you all in a very delicate situation." He said gently as he re-filled her cup of tea, "The blood and Heir status of many of your friends alone would garner much attention, but after the attack this summer?"

He raised his hands as though shrugging helplessly, "Rumors were already circulating of a possible third faction in this coming war. Those will almost certainly be confirmed, once word leaks out about the marks you and your friends bear."

"Simply because of the similarities between us and the Dark Lord," Hermione said quietly and the Headmaster confirmed with a nod.

"Though delightfully more uplifting imagery, I must say." He said cheerfully, "Do you mind if I take another look?"

Hermione did, but couldn't find a reason to refuse, so she rolled up her sleeve. There, stark against her skin sat the white marks. It appeared to be a hill over which rose three, ornate stars. Under the Headmaster's gaze, the mark seemed to glow white- almost with its own light.

"Fascinating," the Headmaster murmured as he pulled away, "Did you design the mark yourself?"

Hermione shook her head, sliding down her sleeve.

"It appeared on its own after the initial ritual." She admitted and slid her sleeve back down her arm. After the ritual, the marks had been faint. Indistinct enough that she could pass them off as an old, strange scar rather than anything magical. But with each marking she had made, the shapes had grown clearer and brighter.

"Truly marvelous," Professor Dumbledore smiled, "I will confess Ms. Granger, that a great part of my wishing to keep you in Hogwarts is selfish. You see, I am a researcher at heart and there is so little information on Soul Marks. They are so rare and so private, the next to nothing of their effects are known."

Hermione scowled, "If you are so interested, why didn't you mark your own group? You could have experienced the effects first hand."

For the first time in their conversation, the Headmaster looked a trifle sad.

"Sharing your soul with someone is an awe-inspiring thing, Ms. Granger," He said gently, "It can lead to the greatest glory and the most terrible pain. Having experienced it once before- long before your time- I could not bring myself to try again."

. . . . . . .

"So we're stuck here?" Pansy asked in disbelief as they took their seat at the breakfast table. The Great Hall seemed cavernous now that the vast majority of the students had left for the Holidays.

"As Professor Dumbledore put it, we are all still students of Hogwarts and underage and are thus under his guardianship until such conditions change," Hermione replied, reaching for the marmalade and spreading a thick layer over her toast. "He was also kind enough to remind me that any complaints to the Ministry would fall on deaf ears- especially considering our House and last names. And that, frankly, most of us wouldn't want our families to reach out anyways."

Hermione paused halfway through her toast and frowned, "Why am I eating marmalade? I hate marmalade."

"I was going to ask," Draco remarked, through a mouthful of egg, "It's terrible. No one likes it."

"I like it." Vince said quietly, "Greg did too. Remember, Draco?"

Draco grunted and Hermione frowned again at her toast.

"Professor Dumbledore did say that Soul Marks were a poorly understood field of magic," She said slowly. "It literally forges a connection between souls. He is… interested to see if what other effects there might be."

"Effects?" Theo asked, "Like sharing of preferences?" He nodded to Hermione's toast with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione shrugged helplessly, "Possibly? Nothing I read suggested anything like that, but there isn't much literature out there."

Pansy and Daphne exchanged a look and then Pansy sniffed, "Well, liking marmalade isn't the worst thing in the world. Even if it's the worst. No offense Vince." Crabbe shrugged a shoulder and went back to his breakfast, but Daphne looked concerned.

"Maybe we should try and figure out what these do- exactly." She suggested, wrapping a hand around her forearm. "Now that we have them."

. . . . . . . .

"Well, this is bloody disappointing," Pansy declared looking at the sheet of paper, "Is this really all we know?" The list was disappointing for an entire afternoon's work of racking their brains and ransacking the library.

Hermione shared the material and information she had used to initially create the Soul Marks- but while those notes were heavy on instruction, they were light on intended consequences. Apparently, the authors thought anyone who had bothered to get their hands on the Soul Marking ceremony already knew exactly what they were getting into.

"It's not like our fathers openly discussed it," Draco snapped, "Well, at least mine didn't. I don't think I ever saw his Dark Mark." Vince and Pansy nodded.

"I saw mine," Theo said quietly, "He would roll his sleeves up before I was punished. I never thought to ask more." Tracy took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze as Theo's voice trailed off. He gave her a small smile.

"Well, what we do know," Hermione said, taking the list back from Pansy, "Is that the Death Eaters could be summoned to his location through their marks. And that they could be punished through their marks-usually through a burning feeling.

"Then what we think we know- though we haven't found any proof: That the marks can be used to tell the strength and mood of the Dark Lord, sort of a passive empathy. That messages could be relayed through the marks. That the Dark Lord could spy on the emotions or moods of his followers. That the Dark Lord could keep track of his follower's locations through the Mark. And… that's it."

Hermione set down the paper and sighed. Her exhaustion was reflected in the faces around the table. Should they spend a few more hours in the library combing through the Daily Prophet's archives from the last war? Give up? Try a few more books?

Finally, Draco leaned forward.

"We … do know someone with a Dark Mark," he said carefully- fingers splayed on the table, "We could just ask?"

The Slytherin's exchanged looks- hope re-appearing. Hermione nodded. "Good idea. Draco, come with me. The rest of you take some time to rest and grab dinner."

. . . . . . .

Professor Snape sat back slowly, steepling his fingers together as his dark eyes considered them coldly. The question hung awkwardly in the air. Finally, he spoke.

"You are essentially correct in your assumptions," He said coldly, "In addition, the mark gives an added advantage when it comes to Legimency. However, it is my understanding that the circumstance around the marks are different, which may lead to different effects. That is all I have to say on that."

Another dead end. Hermione shut her eyes briefly and nodded. Once again, she was on her own. She exchanged a glance with Draco and they rose.

"Thank you for-"

"Ms. Granger." Professor Snape held up a hand and both Draco and Hermione took their seats again. The Potions Master paused for a moment as if considering how to phrase his next thought.

"Ms. Granger," he repeated, "My Master is very interested in this new development of yours." He fixed his bright black eyes on her and Hermione took him to mean that both his Masters- the Dark Lord and Dumbledore- had asked him to keep tabs on her.

"As such, I am pleased to be of any assistance," He continued slowly, eyes fixed on her, "But as your Head of House, I caution you against sharing your findings too freely."

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes as Hermione nodded. Snape was a Spy first, her teacher second. Regardless of if he was a double or triple or quadruple agent, any information he learned about her would be passed along as ammunition for the upcoming war. His help, the quite hours preparing potions ingredients, the long discussions about magic and their world- they were essentially over.

Hermione nodded through the lump in her throat, "That is good advice, Sir. I'll be sure to follow it."

For a moment, it almost looked as though Snape regretted his words.

. . . . . . .

"You look terrible," Daphne said as they re-entered the common room, "Come here. Sit down."

Hermione fell on the couch where Daphne indicated and then grinned as Daphne stuck her hands on either side of Hermione's head solemnly. In the armchair opposite, Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Daph- what are you doing?"

Daphne didn't open her eyes, "Sharing my energy. What is the point of this soul mark if we can't help each other rebalance when we are feeling down? Do you feel anything?"

"Not really," Hermione confessed, amused. "But I appreciate you trying."

"Told you," Pansy said, sticking out her tongue. But before Daphne could reply, Vincent and Millicent burst through the door.

"Got the House Elves to agree!" Vincent announced triumphantly, "They'll bring us dinner here rather than the Great Hall!"

"Dinner?" Hermione twisted in her seat before being distracted by Theo and Tracy coming down the stairs. Their body language was tense- like they had just had an argument. But before Hermione could question that, Theo hurried over.

"Yes, we decided that since no one has any useful information on Soul Marks, we'll just have to conduct our own studies." He declared throwing himself into a chair. Tracy went to perch on the arm of an opposite sofa.

"Studies?" Hermione asked again.

"We'll start with telepathy," Theo said, "Hermione- can you tell what color I am thinking of?"

. . . . . .

Hermione woke in the early morning hours confused. It took her a moment to orient herself. She was in the Slytherin Common room. A fire still burned in the grate and her housemates were passed out around her curled under throw blankets or in armchairs. As Vince snored gently, Hermione settled back down- feeling safe and content for the moment.

They would be alright, as long as they stuck together.

. . . . . . .

A/N: I realize this is a break from the traditional format. But between JaviGrace's request and 's question and my own desire to slow down and check in on the Slytherins, this Christmas Interlude was born. It will be, I think, three parts as Hermione's group discovers what exactly they signed up for with their Soul Marks. (I may remove these into a separate story at some point

As always, your follows, favs, and especially reviews fill me with delight and fuel my desire to finish this story!

3/19- Edited for continuity thanks to the reviews of Annoynmous and Pecan Crisp


	15. Sixth Year: Christmas Interlude pt 2

Christmas Interlude pt 2

"Hermione! Hermione! Can you tell what I'm thinking of?" Draco called out over the breakfast table. The Great Hall was still empty, but the Slytherins were making enough noise to mask the silence. Hermione set down her toast and closed her eyes.

After a long night of practicing telepathy in the Common Room, they had stumbled across a few insights. Hermione could not read simple thoughts, much less complex ones. Nor could she accurately guess the colors, numbers, or shapes her friends imagined. Finally, when blindfolded, she could not guess what gestures, expressions, or poses the Slytherins struck behind her back.

Emotions were debatable. Hermione stoutly insisted that she could, somewhat, pick up on emotional fluctuations- especially when spell induced like with the tickling jinx Pansy kept casting on Daphne. But she admitted that yes, those emotions were very vague and yes, Theo's argument of natural sympathy built over years of friendship did make sense.

Vince, between gamely recording each outcome of their experiments, claimed he could also pick up Draco's emotions. This revelation led to a whole other set of games as the Snakes attempted to see if bearing the mark helped make them more attuned to each other.

There were some surprises. Daphne was able to guess seven out of ten colors that Pansy was thinking. Theo could pinpoint Draco and Vince's positions anywhere in the room while under a Blinding Hex and Millie was able to pick up on the itch behind Hermione's right ear.

Tracy had reluctantly agreed to participate in their games as a control group. She had not accepted the mark so when Hermione was completely unable to detect any shifts in her emotions whether under a silent giggling charm or crying jinx, they all agreed that the mark did something.

The only real change they had discovered was that Hermione could guess with uncanny accuracy whatever spell a Snake was primed to cast. This, in turn, led to a long conversation between Theo and Millicent about whether their Soul Marks had bound their souls to Hermione or their magic and whether there was a difference. Millicent desperately hoped there was.

Still, they had fallen asleep giddy with excitement over their increased connection and the games had continued even when they all woke as one this morning and headed for breakfast.

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on Draco's feel- for lack of better terminology. As she did, she was swept up in a sense of weightlessness that rose in a dizzying vertigo of tumbling. Hermione grasped the table edge for support as she opened her eyes.

"What- what was that?" She gasped.

"You're supposed to guess!" Draco grinned, looking as delighted as a child, "That's the whole point."

"It felt like I was falling," Hermione said slowly, "But not- was it flying? You flying on a broom?"

Draco's grin just grew wider as she guessed correctly. Hermione blinked.

"But how did you make-?" She trailed off. Last night they hadn't been able to share memories and the best Hermione could grasp was vague feelings of anger or laughter. Nothing close to the intensity of sensation that Draco had just shared.

"Well, I was thinking back to what Millie was arguing- that the soul marks were tied to magic. Then I remembered our work with the Patroneous charm in Third Year? Remember how you used your emotions to fuel the spell? So I brought up my favorite memory- like I was going to cast a patroneous- and voila!" He spread his hands wide with a self-satisfied smile.

That was brilliant, Hermione admitted to herself. While emotions and magic weren't always connected, they could be linked in certain spells. Those spells would probably be most visible to Hermione- for when either she, or one of her marked, cast them.

A sudden thought hit the girl. Most emotion based magic was labeled Dark Magic by the Ministry. Was this one of the reasons? If so, why?

Before Hermione could ask her friends, Pansy leaned forward and squinted at Draco.

"Try me." The girl demanded. Last night, Pansy and Draco had shown a certain affinity to guessing each other's magic which Hermione wanted to test the limits of in dueling practice. If they could work out a system of shielding and casting, they would be a powerful duo in a fight.

After receiving a nod of encouragement from Hermione, Draco closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. After a moment, he opened his eyes and grinned.

"What do you think?" He asked.

Pansy sucked her teeth, "Lazy." She decided. "You're using the memory of your first dive, right? I remember that. Your hand position was all wrong and you were sliding over the broom handle like crazy."

Draco looked first astonished, then affronted. "Excuse me? You think you could do better?"

"I know I could," Pansy said carelessly then immediately colored. She glanced down at her closed fists with a tight frown, "I mean. Maybe. You have so much experience and were basically raised on a broom." Her voice trailed off in a miserable mumble.

Hermione glanced between the intrigued Draco and the subdued Pansy.

"Why don't you try?" She suggested lightly. "We could head to the Quidditch pitch after breakfast."

. . . . . . . . .

Pansy was white faced and awkward as she mounted the broom she had reluctantly fetched from her trunk. It was an older model than Draco's but showed signs of being well loved. Pansy had always laughed it off as one of her brother's old brooms, but Daphne had told Hermione their fourth year that Pansy had saved up for six months to buy it herself.

The test would be simple. Tracy, Vince and Theo levitated twenty hastily cut scraps of flag around the pitch while the two fliers would have to grab as many as they could in a minute. It would be a competition of agility and speed.

At Daphne's mark, the two fliers took off.

Draco sped ahead- using every second of his Seeker history to twist, dive, and corkscrew to grab the floating cloths. Pansy on the other hand? Even to Hermione's inexperienced eye, it was clear that Pansy was holding back. She followed Draco spin for spin – keeping a careful two feet behind him. Once it seemed that Pansy had a flag in her grasp only to pull back and let Draco snatch it first.

"Draco wins!" Vince called out as he counted up the flags and Tracy lazily cast a stream of white and silver fireworks over the two fliers. Hermione frowned.

"Best out of three," she called as Pansy dismounted and Draco took a victory spin around the pitch, "And this time: Pansy, don't hold back."

The girl flinched back, stunned for a minutes- her dark eyes flicking between Hermione who was frowning and Daphne who was watching her earnestly. But she remounted her broom and the other Slytherins sent the flags back into the sky. Theo counted down the time and the fliers were off.

The change was obvious and immediate. Pansy charged ahead- heedless of Draco's position or her own safety as she spun around the pitch, collecting the targets. Draco tried to keep up, but his initial shock at Pansy's flying put him behind. By the time Pansy landed back on the field to accept Daphne's cheers and hugs and Tracy's green and black fireworks, she was red cheeked and laughing.

Draco was not.

"You can fly?" He demanded throwing himself off his broom and stalking towards her, "You can fly- really fly. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

The good humor drained from Pansy's, "I don't- I'm sorry Draco."

Draco brushed past Daphne, ignoring the sudden appearance of her wand, and took Pansy by the shoulders. "Do you know how many Quidditch cups we could have won?"

"I didn't mean to- what?"

"We could have won them all!" Draco gave her an impatient shake, "Potter could have caught the snitch ten different times, but if you were flying Chaser it wouldn't have mattered! Hell, you could have been a Seeker!"

Pansy blinked as bewhilderment replaced fear, "You're not mad?"

"Mad? I'm furious!" Draco wailed, "We could have been the best Slytherin Quidditch team since 1862!"

"But mother-" Realization dawned on Pansy's face and she pushed away Draco's hands, "Mother said that you wouldn't like if I flew- if I beat you."

"Why?" Draco demanded- bright spots of color on his cheek, "Because you're a girl?"

Pansy nodded and he dismissed it with a wave.

"Like that matters now. Look at Hermione." He gave Hermione a quick grin that Hermione returned, forcing her hand to lower from her arm, "Now, I have to know what we could have done- Vince, Tracy- fancy a quick pick up game? Chasers and beaters? Theo can keep score…"

. . . . . .

Tracy cornered her after dinner that night.

"Did you mean for that to happen?" The blond girl glanced down and Hermione clutched her arm protectively. The boisterous conversation of their classmates faded around a corner, leaving the two of girls in the silence.

"I don't know." Hermione admitted in a low voice, "I don't."

. . . . . . .

Hermione woke in a cold sweat.

 _The nightmare lingered at the corners of her eyes as she struggled out of her knotted sheets. Green trees. Of course the trees had been verdant on the Greengrass estate. It had been a warm day. Mocking in its perfect summer charm. The air under the trees so heavy and still it could have been enchanted-_

She bolted out of the dorm, almost stumbling over the hem of her own night gown, as she tore from the Girl's dormitory. Behind her, confused voices tightened in panic as she disappeared down the hall.

 _Maybe they had cast the anti-apparition wards wrong. Maybe they had just not been strong enough. Maybe there was some artifact or ritual which rendered the finicky shield obsolete and they just didn't know. There was so much they didn't know-_

Hermione spun around a corner and hurtled down the stairs to the boy's dorm. The door opened under her hand without the need for magic.

 _They thought they had been warriors. That knowing a few clever hexes made them ready to face an army. They had been too sure, too confident, so when the dark robed figures appeared they didn't run. They actually thought they could fight-_

She ducked under the hastily cast defensive spell and ignored the cries of surprise and fear as she tore open the bed curtains.

 _He thought he had known what pain felt like. That his father had inured him against the worse that could be cast at him. Had been almost disappointed when he raised his wand against the first one-_

"Theo-" she screamed, grabbing his shoulders, "It's a dream- just a dream!"

 _Wrong. So wrong. So, so wro-_

The boy woke with a start and stared up at her in surprise.

"Hermione?"

. . . . . . . .

"You can see our dreams?"

Hermione looked up to see Daphne staring at her with a pale and pinched face. The girl had been first through the door in the initial panic and confusion. But after it was established that no, the dorm was not under attack and yes, everyone was fine though admittedly shaken, she had fallen to the back.

Now, when Pansy had gone to fetch tea and mulled wine from the house elves and Milly was watching with great interest as Draco and Vincent scrambled to turn their dorm into a space acceptable for mixed company, Daphne had cornered Hermione.

"I-" Hermione hesitated, "I think so. I knew Theo has nightmares- but have never seen them- hey!" She objected as Daphne grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the boys dorm. When they were alone, Daphne whirled on her.

"Can you see all our dreams? Or only the nightmares? Or –" Daphne's voice trailed off awkwardly and then covered her face in her hands, "Oh gods- you can." Even the dim lights of the dungeon hadn't been able to hide Hermione's sudden, painful blush.

"I'm sorry," Hermione mumbled, "I thought that it was Draco's or-"

"Draco's? He doesn't like her like that," Daphne wailed, "He never has. She's only been a friend. He doesn't- you can't tell her, Hermione. Promise me you won't." Daphne gripped Hermione's hands so tightly Hermione was worried she would be bruised.

"I won't," Hermione promised quickly, "I promise Daphne. I would never say anything-"

"It would ruin everything if she knew." Daphne dropped Hermione's hands and dragged her own through her hair. "The whole Parkinson Greengrass alliance- I don't think- she can't know, Hermione."

"Who knows what?" Pansy poked her head around the corner. Daphne suddenly straightened, dropping her hands from her head and smoothing out her expression. Hermione had never seen such a quick transformation.

"My mother," Greengrass lied, "There's a few things I don't want her to know- if Hermione can read dreams and all that."

"Yeah, about that." Pansy gestured with her head to the boy's dorm, "We have a few questions."

. . . . . .

"For the record, I want it stated that I do not want to share your dreams," Hermione told the assembled group. The solemn faces and tense shoulders were in sharp contrast to the giddiness of the last evening. Mind reading was fun apparently. But knowing that someone could peer into the subconscious mess of your dreams? Not so much.

"Have you been able to read our dreams before now?" Vincent demanded.

Hermione shook her head, "No. Never. None of the texts mentioned it as a side effect and the only example I know is when one of the dreamers is a master legimancer." Or at least, that was how Snape had explained Potter's dreams in their occulmecy lessons last year.

"Which I'm not." She added dryly as her friends shared unhappy looks. Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand, "I promise- and am willing to swear on my magic or an unbreakable vow- that I will never try to seek out your dreams or share what I happen to see."

No one stepped forward to make her swear, even Daphne who just gave an unhappy shrug.

"There are probably enough magical bonds between us already," Draco finally said. "Who knows if an unbreakable vow would even work?" The others nodded. Tracy crossed her arms smugly across her chest and Millicent clutched her forearm protectively.

"Hermione?" The large girl asked, "Is there any way to protect our minds from you – or, Him- from seeing our dreams?"

Hermione sighed. "Funny you should ask, Milly. I was meaning to include this in our lessons this summer, but we might as well start now. How many of you have training in occulemecy?"

It was another long night without sleep.

A/N: Thank you as always for your follows, faves, and- especially- reviews!


	16. Sixth Year: Christmas Interlude pt 3

"So you're saying occulemency can help protect my dreams? From the Dark Lord and you?" Millie asked over the sound of the shower.

Hermione spat out a glob of toothpaste, "That's my understanding."

After a sleepless night, the Slytherins had drifted apart in the morning with Hermione's promise to stay awake if they needed to nap. The comradery from the previous morning seemed like a distant dream as this day dawned. Only Millicent had followed Hermione back to their dorm to freshen up.

"Do you think if I practice really hard I'll be able to- oh hell-" Millie's question trailed off into a string of curses.

"What's wrong?"

"I ran out of shampoo."

Hermione let out a slow breath, forcing her hand to unclasp from her forearm.

"Borrow mine," Hermione offered, glad to be able to relate on such a light-hearted issue. Even with the future of her friend's and the weight of the mark on her arm, an empty shampoo bottle was still a problem.

"No- but thanks- it's specially imported. Part of some hair potion regime from America that Mum ordered me." Millie grumbled, "Damn it- and I already put in the first step-"

"I'll grab it for you." Hermione rinsed off her toothbrush and put it back in her basket.

"Thanks-" Millie's voice was tight with relief. Six years of living in the same dorm and the girl still refused to either enter or exit the bathroom in anything less than her full uniform. Quite a contrast to the other Slytherins who early on decided that bathrobes were optional. "It's in the strong box under my bed- just bring the whole thing-"

Hermione didn't hear the rest of the sentence as she made a beeline for Millie's four poster. The Slytherin girls had early on learned that keeping strictly demarcated zones in their dorm prevented the hell of grudges, arguments, and lost items. So Hermione's books and makeup stayed stacked around her bed while Tracy's messiness existed only in the regulated confines of her bed.

Millie's space was clean to the point of spartan and Hermione quickly found the box. She flicked open the lid and pulled out the extra shampoo bottle.

"Here you go-" She passed Millie the bottle, averting her eyes.

"Thanks-" Millie grabbed it and then dropped it. The bottle bounced off the tile and Hermione looked up in astonishment. Millie was staring at her.

"Hermione?" Her voice sounded strange, "Where did you find this?"

"In your box- the iron one?" Hermione said, "What's wrong."

"The box under the bed?"

"Yes?" Hermione said anxiety gnawed at her stomach. "Millie, what's going on?"

"Hermione- that was a Bulstrode strongbox." The water turned off and Millicent peered out from behind the curtain. "No one's supposed to be able to open that, except for a Bulstrode. Ever."

Hermione bit off a curse.

. . . . . . .

"So… family wards don't work against Hermione."

Draco collapsed back in his chair and ran a shaking hand through his hair. The rest of them sat around the boy's dorm in various states of shock and apprehension.

Hermione glanced down at the open strongbox and fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. After this latest discovery, Millicent had insisted that they tell everyone immediately. Dreams were bad enough, but family magic? That was serious.

Daphne suddenly stood up.

"Wait here." She instructed in a tight voice and ran out of the dorm. The other Slytherins glanced between themselves and settled into more comfortable positions.

"Vince, are you ok?" She asked instead. The boy grimaced and glanced down at his burnt hand.

"Fine." He muttered.

When Hermione had first brought in the hastily emptied iron box, they had been unwilling to believe the story. Family magic was old magic- deep magic. Maybe Millicent hadn't locked it properly. Or the wards had faded over time. Vincent had volunteered to try himself. The box had seemed tiny in his hand, but he had bellowed and dropped it as soon as he flipped the latch. A square burn was etched into his palms.

Millicent looked uncomfortable, "You owe me a debt, by the way." She muttered, "For trying to open it. Forgot to tell you. I'll ask you to get me coffee at dinner or something." Crabbe nodded and flexed his hand with a grimace.

Daphne returned holding a thin, leather-bound book in her hand. Hermione recognized it immediately as Greengrass' diary.

"Oh- Daph-"

"Open it," Daphne demanded, thrusting the book at Hermione, "You have to open it."

Hermione sighed and took the journal. It gave a small shiver of magic as she unwrapped the cords from around the cover and flipped it open to the first page. She closed it quickly before anyone could read Daphne's thoughts.

Pansy exhaled in a quick laugh. "That's the one I gave you for your birthday last year, right?"

"Yes," Daphne gave a tight nod, "It's blood warded to me. Only me. No one should have been able to open it – except-" Her voice trailed off into a waver.

Hermione shut her eyes tightly enough to see stars. "I will swear an oath on my magic-" She promised hollowly, "I know that none of you want this. So I'll promise to-"

"To what?" Draco demanded angrily, "To never enter our homes? To never take advantage of our family's magic? That's impossible. I don't even know how to begin separating my magic from my families. Do you?" He demanded.

The others shook their heads. Hermione was once again struck by how pervasive the importance of family was in their world. In the eyes of the law and magic, Draco was a Malfoy first, himself second. His only goal in the course of his life was to continue the family name and then, secondly, fulfill any other needs his family made of him. To be disinherited was to lose your greater sense of self. To come from an unknown family was worse than being orphaned.

And by pledging himself to Hermione, for better or worse, he had pledged the entire Malfoy line and all the magic and rights that went with that. Hermione closed her eyes briefly as the weight of the realization settled in.

The truth revealed itself to some faster than others.

"I need this off." Daphne thrust her marked arm towards Hermione with desperate insistence, "I need this off now. Hermione. Please."

Hermione raised her head. The question had been inevitable of course. Sooner or later someone was going to regret their pact. It was just that Hermione had thought she'd been ready to answer, "Daphne, That's now how this works."

"No. You have to. Don't you understand? You have to-" Daphne's voice spiraled into a shriek, "I can't- I literally can't have you – there are things that the Greengrasses- no one is allowed to know or to- to –to-" The girl broke off into a wordless wail as she clutched at her hair.

Pansy slapped her, hard enough to make the girl fall over. "Sorry Granger," Pansy said stiffly as she helped her friend to her feet. "I'm going to take her to lay down."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Finally, Theo broke the silence. "Does this mean that the Dark Lord had access to all our family's estates?"

. . . . . . . .

Two hours of research later left each of them disgusted and disturbed.

"So, you're telling me," Tracy spread her hands over the piles of parchment and newspapers, "The Dark Lord basically had access to an actual percentage of Britain's Wizarding GDP?"

"And the associated lands, artifacts, libraries, and sundry goods," Millie added leaning back in her chair to rub the bridge of her nose. She had proven invaluable in her knowledge of the various holdings of the Dark Pureblood families.

Hermione had never actually seen the accounts listed out so clearly and was astounded at how much raw potential power the Pureblood families still held. It seemed like the Ministry was everywhere, but there were huge tracts of land and magic still outside of their control.

"And he still lost the war?" Tracy barked out a laugh, "What a wanker."

"He was up against both the ministry and Dumbledore," Draco frowned at her, "The Ministry which has established popular support, centuries of accumulated stolen knowledge-"

"And the Department of Mysteries," Theo added moodily, pushing a scrap of paper around the table with a finger, "That's a huge known unknown for us."

Hermione sighed and pushed the appearance of a budding headache away. "True. The ministry has incredible holdings. So does the Dark Lord. So does Dumbledore even-" She picked up the small list they had compiled of Light families that Dumbledore had in his pocket. It was the most incomplete but still considerable.

"Comparatively, we have…" She trailed off as she looked around the table.

"The Nott lands and fortune," Theo lifted his head, "They are yours, Hermione. They've always been."

"Thanks, Theo," She gave him a small smile.

"And the Malfoys-" Draco added, then hesitated. "Well, if ask my father to abdicate as Head. Though there hasn't been a pre-death succession in the Malfoy line in at least three centuries. But considering the circumstances."

Hermione nodded her thanks to him.

"I am the heir for the Bulstrode estates," Millie said slowly, rubbing her forearm, "For all the good that would do you honestly. But there are certain conditions for me to become the head and…."

"Don't worry about it, Millie." Hermione said quickly. "I'm not exactly looking to suddenly accumulate lands and fortunes." Yet.

"What are we a talking about?" Pansy asked, coming into the room.

"Heirship."

"Oh- Patrick is the Parkinson Heir. When Daphne marries him- well, I'm not sure what will happen."

"How is she?" Hermione asked. Pansy slumped in a chair and began scanning the list of names and known estates of the prominent death eaters.

"You missed the four acres that the Rosier's have off of Dover- oh- She's fine. Fell asleep. These past few days have been stressful for her."

For all of us, Hermione thought. But she asked, "Pansy- you've known Daphne the longest. Do you know what she was talking about? The Greengrass secrets?"

Frankly, the Greengrass estates were the most interesting and important to Hermione. The Dark Lord already had had access to the Notts, Malfoy's, Parkinson, and Bulstrode estates. Any magical secrets were already known. There was no tactical advantage to them, as impressive as they were.

Of course, Daphne was the one who went into hysterics at the thought of telling anyone about her family.

Pansy shook her head, "No. No one does. The Greengrasses are stupid secretive about some of their lands. Did you know they have a selective obliviation curse when they get married? When Daph and Pat meet under the oak, she's going to leave barely remembering where she grew up. "

Hermione hadn't known and shuddered at the thought of losing chunks of her childhood memories.

"It was worth a try." She sighed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hermione was anything but surprised when Professor Snape paused next to the Slytherin table that night at dinner. After two days of being holed up in their dorm, it was becoming claustrophobic and she had insisted that the rejoin the world for dinner.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office after dinner, Ms. Granger."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment and suppressed a pang of worry as her head of house swept off. Despite the supposed reprieve of winter break, the man looked haggard. How was he going to balance the interests of two factions on top of the normal demands of his classroom? Then she dismissed the worry with a shake of her head. There was enough on her plate as it was.

"Are you going to go?" Pansy asked. It was inevitable in the discussion of family rights and estates for the other Slytherins to eventually realize how precarious their current situation was. Right now, they were weak. Less powerful than a pawn, but with the potential to grow more powerful at the expense of the Dark Lord. Which made them particularly vulnerable to him.

On the other hand, they were literally hostages to Dumbledore while they finished their education- which was mandated by the ministry.

Hermione tapped a nail on her coffee cup. "I think I have to," she admitted.

"You don't," Tracy interrupted. "He might not have let us leave, but he can't force you to go."

"He could." Millie frowned at her friend. "He's the most powerful wizard in the world."

"Oh please- when was the last time you actually saw him hold a wand?"

"He defeated Grindelwald." Millie insisted, "He is the only one the Dark Lord wouldn't battle."

"He's currently the headmaster of Hogwarts and thus lord commander of our current residence," Theo drawled earning him a scowl from his girlfriend. "If he wanted to, he could call up the entire castle to do his bidding."

"Then we leave." Tracy stood up, "Right now. Once we are in Hogsmead, we'll floo home and-"

"And go where," Pansy said at the same time that Daphne asked, "Won't that play right into the Dark Lord's hands?"

They were all valid points, Hermione acknowledged bitterly.

"We are in a strong position by staying here," Draco said, drumming his fingers on the table. "The ministry hasn't acknowledged the Dark Lord's return and Dumbledore hasn't made any overt moves. If we stay here, for all the world knows, we are just students finishing up our education. That gives us time to breathe, to plan, to gather more support-"

"But-" Tracy started but Draco cut her off.

"And what do you really expect us to do if we left?" He asked, "We can't go home. We can't leave the country. What are we supposed to do? Spend the whole war apperating from place to place, living in a tent, and terrified of every bump in the night?"

Tracy allowed that no, that was a stupid way to spend their time and that yes, retreating to the Muggle world or a family estate wasn't much better. Hermione quirked her lips.

"I'm going to see Dumbledore," She decided, "Everything you have all said is correct. But however distasteful our current situation, we don't have a clear way to leave or place to go if we succeed."

There were grumbles of acknowledgment and Tracy took her seat again with tight shoulders.

"Plus," Hermione added in a false-bright voice, "Professor Dumbledore says he is fascinated by Soul Magic. Maybe he knows something we don't. We can't afford to overlook any resources at the moment."

"Do you want us to go with you?" Vincent asked as she stood up and extracted herself from the table. Hermione shook her head.

"No. I'm the only one with any training in Occulemancy and Dumbledore is a master Legimangus. We have few enough advantages as is, I want to keep the ones we have safe. Though," She glanced up at the enchanted "It wouldn't hurt to find out how to leave if need be."

. . . . . . .

"Miss Granger," the headmaster beamed from behind his desk, "I trust you are enjoying your reprieve from your studies?"

"Hardly a reprieve, Professor." Hermione smiled thinly over her cup of tea. The Headmaster had spies throughout the school. Even with their care to stay in the Slytherin dorms and liberal use of privacy charms, Hermione would bet her favorite dress robe that the Headmaster knew exactly what they had discovered.

"Have you given any more thought about your Soul Marking?" He asked, confirming her suspicions. "It's a heavy burden to fall on so young of shoulders."

"It was necessary, considering the alternative," Hermione shrugged with false nonchalance and then added, "And I'm hardly the first to undertake it."

The Headmaster studied her for a moment and Hermione fixed her eyes on his left shoulder.

"I wonder how many more times it will be necessary," He said gravely, "Considering the alternatives."

Hermione sighed. She had worried about that exact problem as well. Sharing her friends' souls was one thing, but there were other students in Slytherin who were also being scouted by the Dark Lord that she would not like to know so intimately.

"Hopefully, as few as possible." She said, "It is, as you said, a burden."

"And yet you are a remarkable young woman, Ms. Granger," The Headmaster said, "Overcoming years of prejudice in your house to forge the true friendship Slytherin boasts of. Fostering international friendships and relationships. Organizing your fellow fifth-year students into the strongest set of OWL scores in fifty years, along with other extra circulars." His eyes twinkled mischievously and Hermione realized that of course, Professor Snape would have told him about the extra defense club.

"It's a remarkable, though unconventional resume," He continued as Hermione took another sip of tea, "I hope it will serve you well in your future."

"It is a remarkable and unconventional future," Hermione replied, not quite sure where the Headmaster was going with this conversation. "I'm sure it will." Was she playing the game correctly? Or betray her friends? Or-

Apparently, she had said something right because Dumbledore's twinkle disappeared to be replaced with a somber, melancholic look.

"You are more right than you realize, Ms. Granger." He murmured and seemed to come to a decision, "More tea?"

"Please." Hermione held out her cup and the Headmaster awkwardly refilled her teacup with his left hand. When he sat down again, the old man was once again full of smiles.

"I do hope you'll take me up on the offer to attend private lessons with Mr. Potter and myself. We will be covering information that I believe you will find invaluable."

"Why?" The question was out before Hermione could help herself. She quickly amended the intent of the question, "You've never exactly been charitable to Slytherins before."

A shadow passed over the man's face, but he said lightly, "True, and it is my sincerest wish that you will find it in your heart to forgive this old man's childish prejudices as you have forgiven so many before."

Which left Hermione in no position to do anything but acquiesce and accept the chance for more private tutoring. Dumbledore beamed.

"Excellent. We shall meet the first Sunday evening after the semester begins. Now, I am sure your friends are wondering what I have done to you and so, to protect my own well being, I will return you to them safe and unharmed. Goodnight, Ms. Granger."

Hermione left entirely unsure of what had been accomplished or lost in that conversation. Still, this next semester would prove to be interesting.

. . . . . .. .

A/N: There are some chapter which must simply be posted as is or else risk another three-month break while they are re-worked. Fanfiction is, in a large part, a well-edited first draft and this chapter proves it to me.

Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful response to this story. Your reviews, follows, and favs are the fuel that keeps me writing.


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